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THE 


F 


MAN WHO TRAMPS. 

A STORY OF TO-DAY. 


LEE O. HARRIS. 







INDIANAPOLIS: 

DOUGLASS & CARLON, PRINTER^. 

1878. 

■f 


/ 




Kntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
LEE 0. HARRIS, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


•t 



PREFACE 


In writing the story which I here offer to the public I had a 
higher ambition than merely to amuse the reader. Although I 
present it as a romance, and expect it to be criticised as such, 
I hope the reader will find in it food for his reason, as well as 
pleasure for his imagination. It has been no easy task to write 
upon this subject, where characters are necessarily drawn from 
the most vicious classes of society, and avoid that coarseness of 
diction which would appear naturally to belong to such associa- 
tions. I may not always have succeeded in this, yet I hope the 
reader will be my witness that I have only used such expressions 
when they were necessary to the truthfulness of the picture. 

It may be objected that, as a story of to-day, it is too full of 
startling incidents to be natural, yet when we remember the 
glaring and ghastly headlines, '^hich stare at us from the col- 
umns of the press every day, I think the candid reader will con- 
fess that the scenes are not overdrawn. 

With respect to the arguments introduced through the story I 
have nothing to say. They embrace such thoughts as came to 
me at the time of writing, and shall go for what they are worth. 


4 


PREFACE. 


If I shall succeed through this medium in awaking an interest 
sufficient to arouse the people to the danger of longer ignoring 
this terrible and growing evil, and lead them to devise plans for 
its abatement, this story will have accomplished its mission. 


The Author. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE R U N AWA Y. 

Scene, a farm house a few miles from the town 
of Ayre, in Indiana. Time, the evening of July i8, 
1876. 

“I tell you, Jane, you are too hard on the boy. 
He has been at work in the field all day, and it is too 
hard to badger him in this way as soon as he sets his 
foot in the house. Let the poor fellow have a little 
rest.” 

“John Shannon, you’re a fool. You’re always 
taking the part of that impudent, lazy rascal. I told 
you when you brought him here, ten years ago, that 
he would worry the life out of me, and now you see 
how it is. And since my young gentleman has 
grown too big to be whipped he grows worse. It’s 
nothing but mope and sulk the whole time he is 


G THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 

about the house, unless he gets hold of a book or a 
newspaper, and then you might as well try to move 
a stump. For my part, I wish there wasn’t a news- 
paper ever printed. All they’re fit for is to make 
young ones lazy, and old fools like you neglect their 
work to dabble in their nasty politics. But I’ll have 
no idle paupers about me, I tell you ! ” And Mrs. 
Shannon threw herself sulkily into a chair and fanned 
herself with her apron. 

“Jane, you’re wrong. Harry is not lazy. He is 
only sixteen, and yet he does as much work in the 
fields as a man. And at school, his teacher tells me, 
he is industrious and obedient, and advances rapidly 
in his studies. ” 

“At school!’’ exclaimed Mrs. Shannon with a 
sneer. “ Where’s the use of sending such pauper 
brats to school ? What good will it do him? Three 
months of his work lost every winter to stuff his head 
with all this book nonsense, that only makes him 
proud, and lazy, and saucy.’’ 

John Shannon sat wearily down on the bench be- 
side the door ; perhaps he thought that Harry Law- 
son was not the only one who suffered from Mrs. 
Shannon’s petulant temper. 

“ I entered into an agreement to send the boy to 
school, when I took him from the men who had him 
in charge,’’ he said. “Besides, it would have been 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


7 


my duty, even if there had been no contract, and a 
boy works none the worse because he is intelligent. 
And as to his being saucy, I have seen nothing like 
that about him. He appears to me to be gentleness 
itself.” 

“That’s the way, John Shannon,” replied his wife 
with a snap. “ You’re always ready enough to take 
sides against your poor over-worked wife, I tell you 
he is saucy and impudent. Only yesterday, when 
he came in from the field at noon, he threw himself 
down on the bench on the porch like a lazy lout, and 
took up the paper to read. I says, ‘ Come, young 
man. I’ll have no lazy bones about me. That churn- 
in’s to be done, and the sooner you get at it the bet- 
ter. ’ Well, what do you think he said? He said, 

‘ Mother Shannon, do let me rest a bit. I’m tired ! ’ 
The impudent young cub! I just told him in so 
many words that I’d have no lazy paupers round me, 
when he rose to his feet with his face as red as fire, 
and says he, ‘ Mother Shannon, no one is a pauper 
who works for his bread. I work for all I get in this 
house, and I work hard, too. ’ That’s what he said. 
There’s impudence for you I I could hardly keep 
my hands off of him. But I snatched that paper 
away from him pretty quick, I tell you, and I kept 
my young gentleman busy at that churnin’ till it was 
time to go to the field,” 


8 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“But, Jane,” replied the farmer, “it is too hard 
on the boy to do a man’s work in the field and a 
woman’s work at the house, too.” 

“And so, John Shannon,” replied the woman, 
“I’m to slave my life out of me that your fine pau- 
per brat may sit and read his newspaper I That’s 
just like you, though. You think of everybody be- 
fore you do of your poor wife,” 

“Jane, you are unreasonable,” replied her hus- 
band. “You know well enough that I have fre- 
quently offered to hire a girl to help you in your 
work, and you have always refused. Why will you 
not let me do so now?” 

“Hire a girl, indeed!” cried the irate woman. 
“John Shannon, do you want us to go to the poor 
house in our old days? No, I’ll not have it. You 
shall not throw money away just to favor that lazy 
rascal. I can’t understand why you think so much 
of him as all that ; you must have some reason that 
you will not tell me. It would be just like you, 
John Shannon.” 

“Don’t be silly, Jane,” answered the farmer with 
a sigh. “You know the poor boy was brought from 
New York, with a great many others, by a charitable 
society. They were given out to persons who agreed 
to pay their railroad fare, to furnish them homes, and 
to educate them. But here comes the boy ; don’t 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


9 


wound his feelings any more. See how sorrowful 
the poor fellow looks.” And the kindly eye of the 
farmer dwelt with genuine pity on the poor orphan 
boy. 

“His feelings!” cried the woman. “Yes, every- 
body has feelings but your wife. Little you think of 
her feelings. I tell you I will say what I please, and 
if your young gentleman doesn’t like it he may lump 
it; that’s all.” 

John Shannon made no reply, and there entered 
upon the scene the boy who had been the innocent 
cause of all this contention and bickering. He was 
a pale, delicate youth, with dark hair, regular and 
handsome features, which some would have pro- 
nounced too effeminate. His eyes were large, black 
and bright, and with a rather dreamy expression, yet 
to a close observer they contained a light which only 
waited the opportunity to kindle into the fire of hero- 
ism. His hands were small and well-formed, but 
browned by labor in the sun. He set the two pails 
of water that he had just brought from the spring 
upon the bench beside the kitchen door, and turned 
toward Mrs. Shannon a look which said, “What 
next ? ” 

“ Now go and split the stove wood for to-morrow’s 
baking,” said the woman. 

The boy turned to obey. 


10 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Hold on, Harry,” said John Shannon, rising, ” I’ll 
split the wood, boy. Sit down and rest.” 

Mrs. Shannon bit her lips and frowned, but said 
nothing. The boy went to the porch in front of the 
house and sat down on the bench, but not to read. 
He gazed dreamily out across the fields that lay be- 
fore him. The w'oods beyond were growing indis- 
tinct in the twilight gloom that moved slowly on 
from the east, and into the soul of the boy crept the 
shadows of the past — a past, brief, it is true, but full 
of sorrows that had darkened his young life, as the 
evening shades darkened the landscape. 

Dim as the outline of the distant wood rose a half- 
remembered scene before his mental vision. A cot- 
tage in the suburbs of a great city. A fair-haired, 
blue-eyed woman, at whose feet he sat, or about 
whose knees he clung with childish affection, or who 
bent tenderly above him at night to press fond kisses 
upon his sleepy lids until he sank into sweet forget- 
fulness. Then there came memories of a dark-haired, 
dark whiskered man whom he used to follow with tot- 
tering steps to the gate in the morning and meet at 
the same place in the evening with glad shouts of 
“papa, papa,” and who used to snatch him up in his 
stalwart arms and press him fondly to his heart, then 
set him astride his shoulder and prance like a boy 
up the gravel walk to meet the blue-eyed woman, 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


11 


whom he clasped with the child tenderly in his arms. 
The vision faded out, and was replaced by another, 
in which that stalwart man lay stretched, pallid and 
helpless, upon the bed, and there were light steps and 
.whispered words by strange people, who came steal- 
ing in and out, until at last there were tears and sobs, 
and the blue-eyed woman clasped him convulsively 
to her bosom and called him her poor fatherless boy. 

Then the little cottage and its surroundings faded 
away, and another scene arose somewhat more dis- 
tinctly. This was of a little room at the top of a high 
house, amid the noise and bustle of the great city, 
and of his pale, sad-eyed mamma toiling wearily with 
her needle for bread. There were days and days of 
this monotonous scene, but at last came again the 
pallid form on the bed — the fair-haired woman this 
time — but there was no gentle stealing about the 
room by kind neighbors, no low whispered words of 
sympathy, but once in a great while a little, dark, 
quick-stepping man came and looked at his mamma, 
and left something in a little bottle which she had 
hardly strength to reach from the chair at the bed- 
side, and went away without a word. And the poor 
woman would draw the child’s head against her bo- 
som and say, “Father in heaven, befriend my poor 
orphan boy.” 

At last came the memory of a time when he grew 


12 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


hungry, oh so hungry, and he called to his mamma, 
but she did not answer him, and he thought she was 
asleep. He took her thin, pale hand that had fallen 
over the edge of the bed, and tried to wake her, but 
she lay so still, and her hand was so cold, that he was 
chilled with a fear he could not understand, and stole 
away into the corner of the room and sobbed himself 
asleep. When he awoke his mamma was gone, and 
a great rough man came and carried him away, very 
tenderly though, and so kindly that he was not afraid, 
but lay in his arms and cried for his mamma. 

The next scene that arose through the fast deep- 
ening shadows was of a large house on a place sur- 
rounded by water. This house was filled with chil- 
dren of all ages, who used to sleep in little cots set 
in a row along the wall, and eat at a long, bare table 
in a great hall. How long he remained here he 
could not remember, but the next change came 
when he and hundreds of other children journeyed 
westward on the cars, stopping at various towns, 
where people came to examine them as they might 
inspect sheep offered at the market, and to select 
and purchase such as suited their fancy. Then he 
remembered that they came to the town of Ayre, in 
Indiana, as he afterward learned, where he was 
chosen by John Shannon, his present master, and 
taken home, six miles into the country, in a great. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


13 


jolting wagon. He recalled the first night in the 
little close room, which was assigned to him in the 
farmer’s house, and which he had occupied through 
all the long ten years that he had been sheltered by 
the farmer, and scolded and beaten by the farmer’s 
wife. Tears stole down the cheeks of the boy as 
his mind flitted to that dimly-remembered past, but 
he brushed them away, shut out the sweet but sor- 
rowful recollection, and sat pondering upon his pres- 
ent situation. He loved and honored the farmer, for 
he had been a kind master to him ; but he hated the 
farmer’s wife with all his boyish ardor, for she had 
made his life a torment. There could be no reason 
for the woman’s conduct, except a naturally petulant 
and tyrannical disposition, which exercised itself 
upon the defenseless boy as being the object most 
available for the purpose. John Shannon had en- 
deavored to do his duty by the poor orphan lad who 
had fallen to his care. He fed him well, clothed 
him as well as his wife would permit, and sent him 
to school three months every winter. His school- 
days were days of comparative happiness to the boy. 
Naturally intelligent and ambitious, he won the favor 
of the variousTeachers under whom he studied from 
time to time, and who encouraged him in the acqui- 
sition of knowledge, and he soon made himself mas- 
ter of all the branches taught in the country school 


14 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


which he attended. And he even progressed beyond 
this by the aid of books borrowed from the masters, 
and under such instruction as they willingly gave him 
before and after school hours. The study of these 
books at home was one source of complaint for Mrs 
Shannon. Almost entirely uneducated herself, she 
could not appreciate the yearning desire of the boy 
for knowledge, nor understand that ambition to rise 
to better things which burned in his soul and gave 
shape to all his actions. Like the goose in the fable, 
she had a young eagle for a nestling, and wondered 
that he should long to exercise his growing pinions 
in flight. His boyish spirit rebelled against her petty 
tyranny. He had no antipathy to labor. For John 
Shannon he would do anything that a boy of his age 
could do. He worked from morning till night, side 
by side with the farmer in the field, besides doing in- 
numerable “chores” about the house, both morning 
and evening. It was not the work. It was the per- 
petual fault-finding, the cruel taunts of poverty and 
dependence, that stung his soul, until at last his 
heart grew sick of such a life, and, as he sat there in 
the twilight, his whole being thrilled with the sad 
memories of his early childhood, he resolved to end 
his bondage — to run away. 

With Harry Lawson, to resolve was to act. He 
stopped not to consider where he should go, nor 


THE MAN IVHO TRAMPS. 


15 


what he should do to earn his living. Anywhere to 
■escape the persecutions of his mistress ; anything to 
eat without torment the bread of honest labor. 

Yet he thought of the kind-hearted farmer with 
regret. He, at least, would miss him, and perhaps 
think him ungrateful. He would like to bid him 
good-bye, and thank him for his kindness, but to do 
so would only defeat his object. No, he would 
write and leave the letter in his room. They would 
find it in the morning, but he would then be beyond 
pursuit. While he sat planning thus the night stole 
on unheeded, and the first intimation he had of the 
latene.ss of the hour was the sharp voice of Mrs. 
Shannon — 

“Harry Lawson, are you going to stay up all 
night? Get off to bed with you ; I want to shut up 
the house. And see that you don’t lay snoozing in 
bed in the morning, when you ought to be out milk- 
ing the cows. To-morrow’s baking day, and I want 
none of your laziness, I tell you.” 

Harry arose without a word, and retired to his lit- 
tle room in the loft, but not to sleep. He sat down 
on the side of the bed till all was still in the house, 
then, from a nook under the rafters, he took a little 
piece of candle that he had hidden to enable him to 
study at night when he wished to do so, and lighting 
it, sat down on the floor beside the box in which he 


16 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


kept his clothes, to write his letter. And this is 
what John Shannon found on the bed next morning, 
when, after calling the boy several times and getting 
no answer, he ascended to his room ; 

Mr. Shannon: — My second father, for as such I will always 
think of you, I am going to do what you will think very wrong. 

I am going to run away. I can not stand this life any longer. 
You have always been kind to me, and I thank you. I hope that 
my labor has paid you for the expense you have been to on my ac- 
count. I do not know where I shall go nor what I shall do, but do 
not be uneasy on my account, for I will get along some way. I 
will take my clothes, and I hope you thirkk I have paid for 
them. Good-bye, and don’t think hard of me. Good-bye, Mother 
Shannon ; you might have made the poor motherless boy love you, 
but you have chosen to hate him. I know you will be glad to get 
rid of me. Harry Lawson. 

He made a little bundle of the clothes he was wont 
to wear to church on Sunday, and stole silently out 
into the darkness. 

John Shannon read Harry’s letter to his wife, and 
with a great sobbing sigh walked out to the barn 
with his head bowed upon his breast. Mrs. Shan- 
non stood for a moment like one dazed with sudden 
terror, and then sat down and cried as though her 
heart would break. If Harry could have seen her 
then he would scarcely have believed the evidence of 
his senses. 

Such paradoxes are there in human nature. 


CHAPTER II. 


TRAMPS. 

It has been truly said that but a small part of the 
actual evils of war center about the battle-field. It 
might be as truthfully said that but a small part of 
those evils cease with the war itself. This is espe- 
cially so in a country whose armies are made up al- 
most entirely of volunteer citizens. Of this we have 
a striking example in our own country. The armies 
of our great civil war were composed principally of 
volunteers from the manufacturing and producing 
classes, who, when the war closed, returned to their 
previous occupations as good citizens as they were 
before they donned the knapsack and the cartridge- 
box. But among these, especially toward the close 
of the struggle, were many from a lower grade of 
society, from the slums of the cities and towns, and 
even from the jails and penitentiaries, who, tempted 
by the large bounties then offered and the chances 
of plunder, became soldiers in name, though few of 
them were ever really soldiers in fact. From this 
2 


18 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


class came the “bummers” and camp-followers of the 
army, the “bounty-jumpers” and deadbeats gener- 
ally. When the combat ended the avocation of these 
men, such as it was, ceased, and they were thrown 
idle upon the community. The reckless, free life of 
the army had given them a taste for wandering and a 
distaste for every species of labor, and following their 
natural instincts, directed by their acquired habits, 
they became professional tramps. For a considera- 
ble time they pursued their course with but little 
comment by the citizens, for their numbers were not 
so great, when scattered over the entire country, as 
to attract particular attention. They were always 
ostensibly on the hunt for work, always bound for 
some special destination, and people believed their 
well-told stories. But about this nucleus, small at 
first, began to congregate others, who, profiting by 
their example, desired to live like them a life of idle- 
ness, and tramping spread like a contagion. The 
return of the army overcrowded the labor market, 
and as the country began to feel the natural reaction 
following the inflation of war times, many who hon- 
estly desired to labor were thrown out of employ- 
ment, or were compelled to travel in search of it. A 
large majority of these, perhaps, found occupation in 
time, but many, once having tasted of the fountain 
of indolence, lost all wish to labor, and continued 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


19 


their pretended search indefinitely. Every great 
misfortune in any part of the country was seized 
upon as an excuse for vagrancy, and the land was 
filled with Kansas sufferers who never saw Kansas, 
and pretended victims of the great Chicago fire told 
pitiful tales of loss and suffering, that brought them 
sympathy and food. The people of both the coun- 
try and the town, naturally charitable and kind- 
hearted, only increased the rapidly-growing evil by 
their well-meant but indiscriminate charity, and this 
class of persons learned that there was an easier way 
of getting their bread than by the sweat of their 
brows. And even after it was well-known that nine- 
tenths of those asking aid were unworthy, people 
dreaded to refuse for fear of turning away the tenth 
man to suffer. In this indiscriminate charity people 
are always more or less selfish. It is not so much 
the distress of others which causes them to give, as 
it is their own pain at beholding misery, and a desire 
to relieve their own feelings by contributing aid to 
all who claim to be suffering. So the tramp was 
well fed, and grew, and multiplied in the land. 

Had the evil stopped here, it might have been only 
a nuisance, like the lazzaroni of Italy, but upon this 
prolific stock was soon grafted the dangerous com- 
munism of France. Vicious agitators, who had 
tasted of the intoxication of anarchy and bloodshed, 


20 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


when driven from France found a refuge here. With 
all the natural instincts of the American tramp, com- 
bined with the treachery of the serpent and the fero- 
city of the tiger, they carried with them a prestige 
and a power which soon made itself felt. Then the 
tramp ceased to be merely a nuisance ; he became a 
terror. Then followed scenes of riot and bloodshed 
that made the nation grow pale. The pernicious 
doctrines that had convulsed France, and dyed her 
rivers red with blood, were openly preached upon 
the streets of our cities, and gained many followers 
among those who either had not the intelligence or 
the inclination to see to what terrible scenes of mis- 
ery and devastation they tended. 

Then the tramp became a power in the land. His 
influence was felt in politics, and in nearly all the so- 
cial relations. Always on the watch for every con- 
vulsion in society, he turned it to his own advantage. 
Honest laborers, thinking to better their condition, 
struck for higher wages or for the redress of griev- 
ances ; as soon as the thing was done, it passed into 
the hands of the tramp, who, having nothing to lose, 
could afford to take great risks. Riots were inaugu- 
rated by them that they might gratify their desire for 
destruction and for plunder, and under the name of 
workingmen they brought reproach upon the name 
of labor. The true laboring man saw the evil genius 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


21 


he had invoked take the affair out of his hands, and 
in his name do deeds that sent a thrill of horror 
through the land. 

These tramps, although combined in one great or- 
ganization, were of many grades and degrees. The 
tramp proper, the original tramp, was nothing but an 
easy-going, indolent vagrant, beating his way through 
the world with no ambition but to live without labor. 
He had the slouching, filthy habits and pitiful whine 
of the professional beggar, and was simply a great 
nuisance. There was another grade, composed of 
criminals, who ascended in degrees of crime from 
robbing a hen-roost to highway robbery, and even to 
murder. He made his home principally in the great 
cities, and only occasionally resorted to the country, 
and then only for purposes of plunder or to escape 
'the vigilance of the law. The third class might be 
denominated the political tramps, led by the men of 
whom I have before spoken. They were cunning 
and ambitious, and prided themselves on being phi- 
losophers. They talked and taught their inflam- 
mable doctrines on' all occasions, and were arrogant 
and insolent as well as vicious. The first class could 
• be endured ; the second suppressed by the strong 
arm of the law ; but the last carried with them a pes- 
tilence which permeated society, and threatened the 
very life of the nation. 


22 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Perhaps in no other country in the world, France 
not excepted, could these men have found a more 
congenial soil in which to scatter the seeds of their 
terrible doctrines. In a society so mixed ; a popula- 
tion made up of all nationalities; of refugees from 
all the despotisms of the world ; men who understood 
nothing and cared less about our government and 
our institutions ; whose ideas of liberty and of license 
were synonymous — in such a society the specious 
doctrines of the commune soon took root, and began 
at once to bear fruit. 

But I anticipate. On the night of July i8, 1876, 
while Harry Lawson was preparing for his flight, a 
scene was enacting between thirty and forty miles 
from farmer Shannon’s to which I wish the reader to 
accompany me. On an elevated piece of ground, or 
rather a heavily wooded island, surrounded by a large- 
swamp, also covered with timber, and in turn encir- 
cled by a forest of considerable extent, were assem- 
bled some fifteen or twenty tramps. A bright fire 
was burning, which threw a vivid glare upward upon 
the dark green foliage of the trees, and brought into 
bold relief their trunks for a circle of twenty yards. 
Beyond this all was darkness, weird and intense. 
Even above appeared to arch a dome of blackness, 
resting upon the tree-tops, for the night was cloudy 
and no star was visible. About this fire were 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


23 


grouped several of the tramps, busily engaged in 
cooking. It seemed to be an occasion of more than 
ordinary importance, and the preparations were ap- 
parently for a feast. Spitted upon sharp sticks were 
chickens roasting, which some careful farm-wife would 
miss in the morning, and charge the “ varmints ” 
with the theft. There were crocks of milk and jars 
of butter, stolen from some spring-house, where they 
had been set to cool, eggs from the farmer’s barn, 
and potatoes from his garden, and roasting ears from 
his field. There was even a slaughtered pig sus- 
pended from the limb of a tree, steaks from which 
were broiling on the coals. There were apples, and 
peaches, and melons ; in short all the requisites for a 
grand feast. Oh, your tramp is a great forager. He 
will come to your door hungry-looking and appar- 
ently tired almost to death, and beg for a mouthful 
of food. He has eaten nothing all day. Would you 
be so kind as to give him a bite to eat. He may 
even offer to work if he feels morally sure that you 
have nothing for him to do. This is a risk, however, 
which few of them are willing to take. They are 
nearly always of some occupation not followed in 
your vicinity. In the country they are iron-puddlers 
or machinists; in the city they are farm-hands. Your 
eye dwells with compassion on his woe-begone ap- 
pearance, while his takes in the surro'undings of your 


24 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


hen-house or your pantry. You give him food. 
Who could refuse that pleading look and mournful 
voice ? He carries it away with him, and if it suits 
his epicurean palate he eats it, or if he is seeking a 
I rendezvous of tramps he tak^es it with him to swell 
the general contribution ; but if it is not to his taste 
he throws it away as soon as he is out of your sight. 
Afterwards, should occasion demand, and the prospect 
seem favorable, he will return in the silent watches 
of the night, that he may not disturb your rest, and 
your chickens or your provisions disappear, you 
know not how or where. Yes, your tramp is a skill- 
ful forager. If you are particularly kind and pitiful 
you will be surprised at the number of starving men 
who come your way. You will wonder why all the 
tramps pass neighbor A.’s or neighbor B.’s and come 
to you. My dear sir, or madam, this will continue 
until you are tired of it and kick the next one out of 
the house, or, if you are a woman, until you set the 
dog on him or drive him off with the poker. Then 
it may cease. Do you wonder at this? I will let 
you into the secret. Your house is advertised — 
marked upon the fence, the gate or in some other 
place, so that the wayfaring man, who is not a fool, 
may read, “ Here is sympathy for indolence. Here 
is food for idleness. Enter and partake thereof, and 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


25 


laugh at the foolish people who pay a premium for 
vagrancy.” 

If some of the charitable persons who had allowed 
their sympathy to get the better of their judgment 
could have seen this assembly, the next tramp who 
called on them would doubtless have gone away a 
disappointed man. During the preparation of the 
meal the tramps kept coming in, all from one direc- 
tion, one and two at a time. This seemed to indi- 
cate that there was but one entrance to the island. 
This was by means of fallen trees which, although 
making a circuitous route, made a dry one across the 
swamp. By the time the cooking was done there 
were near fifty men assembled about the fire. They 
now fell to eating like a pack of ravenous wolves, 
and for a time all were too busy to think of talking, 
but after the first keen edge of their appetite was 
somewhat blunted the joke, the laugh and the story 
began to go round, and before their supper was 
ended they had grown quite boisterous. 

At this juncture a new- comer appeared upon the 
scene, entering, as the others had done, from the 
same swamp. This was a man about forty years old, 
a little above the medium height, with a very dark 
complexion, dark enough for a mulatto, but with 
long, straight black hair, and small, restless black 
eyes, sparkling beneath his projecting brows. His 


^6 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


cheek-bones were prominent and his lips were thin 
and straight, giving to his features a look of firmness 
and resolution. The tramps ceased talking as soon 
as this man appeared. He was evidently expected, 
and was known to many there, for a whisper ran 
through the crowd, “ That ’s him. That ’s Black 
Flynn and several of the men advanced to meet 
him. 

“ Have you been to supper, boss?” asked one of 
the tramps, after the first greetings were over. 

“Yes, I have eaten,” was the reply. “Feasted 
like a gentleman on all the delicacies of the season. 
I called at a house where there was no one at home 
except a woman. I do not know whether to give 
fear or pity the credit, but she set before me the best 
in the house. I see that you also have eaten, and I 
suspect from the looks of things here that neither 
pity nor fear are responsible for your feast. The 
credit is doubtless due to your own exertions.” 

The tramps laughed. They assembled about this 
man — this tramp who talked like a scholar — and 
waited for him to continue. 

“Do you know why I have caused you to assem- 
ble here?” he asked. 

“We don’t know nothin’ about it, only we was 
ordered to come,” replied one who took upon him- 
self the office of spokesman, and addressed the new- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


27 


comer in a peculiarly deep bass voice. As this man 
plays a prominent part in the drama to be hereafter 
enacted, I will endeavor to describe him. Perhaps 
the shortest and most comprehensive description 
would be to call him a great, burly, red-headed ruf- 
fian. His eyes were small and piggish ; his nose was 
flat, and his mouth was large and sensual. His com- 
plexion was exceedingly florid, and he had that ap- 
pearance of filthy dilapidation common to the worst 
class of tramps. But his most striking peculiarity 
was his voice. This was deep as the sub bass of an 
organ, and seemed to proceed from his chest rather 
than from his mouth. It was a voice that, once 
heard, could never be forgotten. This man was 
known to the fraternity of tramps as “Sandy.” His 
real name was Sanford Hines. 

“I was at Calusa with Toney Bazin here,” con- 
tinued Sandy, “when we met a cove what guv us 
the sign, and told us to come to the big swamp to- 
night. That’s all I know.” 

“ How long have you been on this beat, Sandy?” 
asked Flynn. 

“ ’Bout a month.” 

“ Can you vouch for all here?” 

“ jpvery man of ’em,” replied Sandy, casting his 
eyes over the crowd. “They’re all right, bos.s.” 

“ Well, then, let us to business,” said Black Flynn. 


28 


THE MAM WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Some of you know me personally and some do not. 
You have all heard of me, and know that I am boss, 
or master, of this district, and that all members of 
our fraternity entering my jurisdiction are, for the 
time, under my orders. That is one of the beauties 
of our system. A man is free to come and go when 
and where he pleases, but he is subject to the ordei^s 
of the ‘boss’ of the district in which he finds himself. 
Now, those who know me can vouch for me to those 
who do not, and I will tell you why, obeying the 
orders of my superiors, I have called you together at 
this time. The coal miners in the eastern part of 
Pennsylvania are about to strike, so it is hoped, and 
if they do it will be pretty general throughout the 
State. It will be our business to make it so. Not 
that we hope to accomplish much for the great cause 
yet. The time is not ripe. But the more we can 
stir up this strife between capital and labor, the 
sooner will the time come to strike to some purpose. 
There is nothing doing here, nor is there likely to be 
for some time to come. The orders are to assemble 
in the neighborhood of the mines and watch the pro- 
gress of events. Go in twos, or threes at most. 
Steal your way upon the cars, or any way to get 
there in the shortest possible time, and there .wait 
for orders. Do you understand ? ” 

“ Well, boss, we’ll do as you say,” replied Sandy. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


29 


But this is the third time we’ve gone off on a wild- 
goose chase, and it amounted to nothin’.” 

“Well,” replied Black Flynn, “ you may have to 
go four, five or a dozen times yet and accomplish 
nothing. But all countries are alike to men of our 
profession, and the time will come at last, rest as- 
sured, when your services will be needed.” 

“ But, boss, we don’t all know what this thing 
means,” said Sandy. “You was just braggin’ about 
the tramp bein’ so free that he could go anywhere 
he wanted to, and here we ’re ordered away off into 
the mountains of Pennsylvany, when some of us 
would rather stay here. How’s that for freedom ? 
D — n such freedom, I say. I’m gettin’ tired of this 
thing. It looks to me like we ought to have some 
say about it ourselves.” 

“Do you refuse to obey?” said Black Flynn, with 
a frown. “ Have a care, Sandy Hines. The frater- 
nity can better do without you than you without 
them. Have you forgotten what it has already done 
for you ? Who, by furnishing witnesses to prove an 
alibi, saved your bull neck from stretching hemp for 
a certain ugly affair at St. Louis? Who opened the 
doors of the station-house for you at Cincinnati, 
when you were good for ten years at hard labor? 
Who could hang you now, Sandy Hines, if you 
should play them false? Hold your tongue and 
obey, and you will be wise.” 


30 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Who talks of throwin’ off on the fratern’ty, Fd 
like To know?” said Sandy. “Didn’t I say I was a 
goin’ ? But, boss, it’s nothin’ but fair to let a feller 
know somethin’ about this great thing that’s goin’ to 
happen after while. I don’t half understand it.” 

“ You will know all in good time,” replied Black 
Flynn. “ In the meantime do as you are bid, and 
wait. By day after to-morrow you should all be on 
the way. Others are already moving in that direc- 
tion, and we must not be the last and with these 
words he turned and disappeared in the direction 
from which he came. 

The tramps conversed for a time upon this new 
topic, and then lay down to sleep, all except two. 
These were Sandy Hines and Toney Bazin, who sat 
together at some distance from the others. 

“Well, I for one ain’t goin’ without finishin’ up 
that job about old Cartright’s money,” said Sandy. 
“To-morrow’s the day he’s to draw the stamps out 
of the bank, for I heard him tell the man so when I 
was hid behind the hedge. He promised to pay it 
over day after to-morrow. ” 

“ How much money is tare?” asked Toney. 

“’Leven hundred and fifty dollars.” 

“ Mon Dieu ! Veil, how you gets him ?” 

“ Why, if there’s no chance to tap him over when 
he comes through the woods from town, he ’ll have 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


31 


to keep it one night in the house, and then we ’ll lift 
it, sure. A feller ’d be purty well heeled with ’leven 
hundred and fifty dollars.” 

“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the Frenchman again. 

The matter appeared to be settled for the present, 
for the men soon followed the example of their fel- 
lows and went to sleep. 


CHAPTER III. 

ON THE ROAD. 

Harry Lawson turned his face to the east and 
walked on all night. When morning dawned he 
found himself on a strange road, tired and hungry, 
and without a cent in his pocket. He sat down and 
thought with dismay of his unpleasant situation. 

“What shall I do?” he asked himself. “I must 
eat or I can not walk. I can neither beg nor steal. 
Well, I will rest awhile, and then walk on again. 
Something may happen to let me out of my difli- 
culty. Surely no one need either suffer or beg in a 
country so laden with grain as this. ” . 

In a quarter of an hour he resumed his journey. 
He had proceeded but a few miles when, on turning 
a bend in the road, he came upon a man engaged in 
hauling wheat from a field near by. In crossing a 
ditch at the side of the road a part of the load had 
fallen off, and, as Harry approached, the man sat on 
the wagon looking ruefully at the sheaves lying in a 
tangled heap on the ground. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


33 


Here was a chance for our runaway, and he made 
up his mind in a moment. 

“Hello! Want some help?” he called briskly, 
throwing his bundle down by the side of the fence. 

“Yes!” replied the farmer, eagerly. “ It’s too far 
to where the men are at work to make them hear, if 
I call. I will be obliged to you if you will pitch up 
my load for me, while I build it on again.” 

“All right,” said Harry ; “ I’ll pitch up your load, 
and then you can give me my breakfast. That will 
make us even.” 

The man laughed. 

“Well, that’s nothing more than fair,” he said, and 
handing Harry the fork, the latter began to toss up 
the sheaves. 

“Tramping?” asked the man at length. 

“Traveling,” said Harry, without pausing in his 
work. 

“ Hunting work?” 

“No, only to pay for my breakfast.” 

“Well, that’s better than most of them,” laughed 
the farmer. “ They generally hunt the breakfast, and 
then forget the work.” 

“Who?” asked Harry. 

“Who? why the tramps of course.” 

“Yes, I’ve seen some of them,” replied the boy. 
“But I am no tramp.” 

3 


34 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“What are you then?” 

“I told you I was a traveler,” was the reply. “A 
tramp is a beggar. I shall ask for nothing but what 
I shall pay for, either in work or money.” 

“That is right, my boy,” answered the farmer. “I 
like your independence. That is the spirit which suc- 
ceeds. But you are young to be traveling in this way. 
May I ask where you came from?” 

Harry hesitated and did not reply at once. 

“I suppose it’s none of my business, my boy,’’ said 
the farmer. “ But the country is full of young men 
and boys, even younger than you appear to be, who 
leave comfortable homes for some fancied slight or 
trouble, or sometimes from a mere restlessness which 
causes them to seek for what they call adventures, and, 
nine times out of ten, they become worthless tramps. 
There never was a time in the history of this country 
when it was so dangerous for boys to be away from 
the care of their friends. I have no right to ask you 
to betray your secret, if you have one, but shall I 
give you a word of advice ?” 

“I shall be glad to receive it,” said Harry. The 
load was now replaced, and the boy climbed up beside 
the farmer to ride to the house, which could be seen 
at no great distance. The man continued : 

“My advice is to beware of the tramps. Avoid 
them, whatever you do. Preserve that honest inde- 


THE MAN it^HO TRAMPS. 


35 


pendence which induces you to pay, in some way, for 
all you receive. If you travel, far you will meet them 
frequently. Have nothing to do with them, or they 
will make you a vagabond like themselves.” 

“Never fear, sir,” replied Harry. “I will remem- 
ber your advice.” 

“And, my boy,” continued the farmer. “ What- 
ever may be the troubles at home, it is generally 
better to bear them than to throw yourself upon the 
world, without resources, to depend upon charity or 
chance for your support. Quit this tramping, for it 
is little better, call it what you may, as soon as you 
can. If you have a home, return to it at once. If 
not, get into some employment, however humble, at 
the very first opportunity. Do not wait for work 
to suit you, but make yourself suit the work. 
Many an unemployed man becomes a tramp before 
he is aware, by refusing work that offers because it 
does not happen to suit his taste, and this tramping 
habit has so many fascinations, so much of change 
and adventure, that, when once formed, there is 
scarcely a hope of shaking it off. But here we are 
at my house, and I suspect you need a breakfast, just 
now, worse than a lecture. Come in.” 

Harry received a good breakfast, after which the 
farmer’s wife, pleased with the look and manners of 
the boy, gave him a package of provisions, enough to 


36 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


last him for the day. He at first demurred, but the 
farmer insisted that the service he had rendered was 
fully worth all he had received. On this Harry took 
the provisions with thanks, and pursued his journey. 

During the day he saw a great many tramps. Some 
were traveling upon the road, some were begging at 
the houses which he passed, and others lay asleep 
under the trees and hedges. Occasionally one would 
try to enter into conversation with him, but he left 
him as quickly as possible and avoided his questions. 
Some were careless and indifferent, some were sullen 
and morose, even vicious looking, while others were 
quite waggish and merry, and seemed to enjoy their 
vagabond life immensely. Some carried bundles, and 
a few tools of various trades — these, however, were^ 
in some cases, honest tradesmen seeking employment 
— but the majority had nothing but the clothes on 
their backs. There were men of nearly all national- 
ities and colors, and of all ages, from the robust youth, 
just entering into manhood, to the poor decrepit old 
man, begging his way to the grave. Many were 
truly objects of pity, but by far the largest number 
were hearty, able-bodied men. He passed one poor 
cripple, stumping along on a wooden leg, carrying a 
bundle over his shoulder. Looking back, he saw this 
man stop at a house, and his sympathies went out 
toward him, and he hoped that he might not be turned 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


37 


away. But a short time after, as he sat at the road- 
side eating his dinner, whom should he see, stalking 
by, but this same cripple, a cripple no longer, but 
with his wooden leg only half concealed in his bundle, 
and striding along on two as good legs as ever bore a 
tramp. Having fortified himself with a good dinner, 
he thought it useless to keep up his little farce, but of 
course held himself in readiness to renew it when oc- 
casion should require. Afterwards, Harry learned 
that this trick was performed by bending the leg upon 
the thigh, and securing it there by tying. This, with 
the addition of wide-legged trowsers and the wooden 
stump, completed the preparations, and cheated 
many a tender heart out of unmerited sympathy. 

Once during the day he passed a group of three 
tramps, who had just come from a house near by, 
and who were cursing terribly at having been refused 
food, and threatening the inmates with their ven- 
geance. They ceased talking as he approached, but 
did not molest him. He stopped occasionally at a 
house for a drink of water, and always found himself 
regarded with suspicion, and children would run in- 
doors hurriedly, with the whispered exclamation, 
“ Here comes a tramp ! ” All this was very galling 
to the proud spirits of the boy, and he finally ceased 
stopping at the houses, and drank at the running 
streams. 


38 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Well, what am I better than a trarnp ? ” he said 
to himself, as he walked along. “ I have no home; 
I am traveling almost aimlessly through the country, 
without money to pay for lodging or food. I shall 
be compelled to sleep out of doors by the hedges, or 
under the trees. I am a tramp to that extent, but I 
am not a beggar, nor will I ever be one. I will stop 
this aimless wandering as soon as I get fully beyond 
the reach of pursuit, and will earn money to pay my 
way. One is not a tramp simply because he travels 
afoot, and yet everybody seems to think so.” 

When evening overtook Harry he was many miles 
from the scene of his morning’s adventure. The 
provisions given him by the farmer’s kind-hearted 
wife had served him for both dinner and supper, and 
he now began to look for a place in which to spend 
the night. The weather was pleasant, and he deter- 
mined to sleep in the open air. All he required was 
shelter from the dew. While walking along very 
slowly, for he was now quite tired out with his long 
journey, he was startled by a voice which cried out : 

“ Hello, boy! which way?” 

Harry looked in the direction of the sound, and 
saw a tramp seated in the corner of the fence, eating 
some food which he had evidently procured at a 
large house which stood a little way back from the 
road. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


39 


“ Which way?” repeated the stranger. 

“lam going to Cincinnati,” said Harry, for dur- 
ing the day he had decided to go to that city. 

“Not going through to-night?” laughed the man. 
“No; certainly not,” answered Harry. 

“ Where are you going to bunk ? ” 

“Eh!” / 

“ Where are you going to sleep ? ” 

“ In any place that suits me,” said Harry, walking 
on. 

The tramp came into the road and walked by his 
side. The boy saw that he was a man of more than 
medium height, with very black hair and eyes, and a 
very dark complexion. He came to the conclusion, 
from the general appearance of the man, that he had 
fallen in with a veritable tramp, and that, too, at a 
time when he most wished to^avoid such characters. 
Yet there was something in the look of this man 
which commanded a sort of respect, despite his di- 
lapidated appearance and beggarly occupation. He 
quickened his steps. So did the tramp. He walked 
slowly. The tramp regulated his pace to suit. For a 
moment the boy was tempted to turn back and seek 
shelter at the house, but then he thought of his pen- 
niless condition, and walked on. The tramp had 
been watching him closely, and read his fears aright. 
At length he said, with a sort of rough kindness in 
his tone : 


40 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Don’t be afraid, boy. I am a tramp, and my 
business is to beat the world out of a living, but I 
take from those who are able to give. From your 
looks I should say you are the next thing to a tramp 
yourself. Are you hungry? Here!” And he of- 
fered a share of his food to the boy. 

“No, thank you,” said Harry. “I have eaten. 

I am not hungry.” 

“You have not told me where you are going to 
stop to-night,” said the tramp. 

“I do not know,” replied Harry. Then with a 
sudden thought, “ I think I will walk to-night.” 

“ Walk I Nonsense I I tell you, boy, you have 
nothing to fear from me. You are already worn out 
with walking, to judge from your looks. Let us find 
a place to sleep and stay together. Then if you do 
not like my company in the morning we can part. 
But if you go on to-night I will go with you.” 

Finding that there was no chance of getting rid of 
the fellow without going to a house for protection, 
which he did not wish to do, Harry said no more, 
but walked on in silence. At length they came to a 
place where a hedge ran down to the road. 

“ Here,” said the tramp, “we will find a place to 
sleep. Let us go up the hedge a piece, where we will 
not be disturbed.” 

After walking about a hundred yards from where 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


41 


they turned aside they came to a place which seemed 
to suit the tramp, for he said : 

“This will do. Pile down, ” 

Harry sat down on the soft grass under the shelter 
of the hedge, and the tramp stretched himself at full 
length near by. It was not yet quite dark, and nei- 
ther felt disposed to sleep at once. It was anxiety 
which made Harry wakeful, however, for as he had 
walked all night the night before he was in need of 
rest. The tramp seemed inclined to talk, 

“ What is your name, boy?” he asked. 

“ Harry Lawson.” 

“Well, I’m Jesse Flynn. Black Flynn, they call 
me,” said the tramp. 

His next question startled Harry. 

” Have you any money ? ” 

“No, not a cent,” said Harry, quickly. 

“ Where did you come from ? ” 

“From near Ayre. ” 

” When ? ” 

” Last night.” 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“ To Cincinnati.” 

” What for ? ” 

“To hunt work.” 

“ Work ? Where’s the use ? ” said the tramp. 


42 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“I must eat,” said Harry, “and I can’t beg nor 
steal.” 

“That’s nonsense,” said the tramp. “Look at 
me. I live; I eat like a gentleman. Haven’t done 
a lick of work since the war.” 

“ What do you do then ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Live like a nabob. A gentleman of leisure.” 

“ What do you do when you are hungry ? ” 

“ I eat.” 

“ How do you get food? ” 

‘ ‘ Like any other gentleman ; I order it. What 
does your fine gentleman do more ? I eat, I sleep, 

I go where I please, do as I please. The whole 
country is my estate, my park. I stroll sometimes 
in one part, sometimes in another. When I am 
weary I rest, when I am sleepy I sleep. You saw 
the farmers at work as you came along, toiling and 
broiling and sweating in the hot sun? Well, they 
are working in my fields, preparing food for me and 
others like me, who are wise enough to live without 
work. Where’s the use of work, when you can live 
as well without it ? The farm hand labors for his 
master, and gets his board and clothes. The farmer 
labors for the mechanic, the doctor, the merchant, 
the banker, and gets his board and clothes. They in 
their turn labor for others and get no more. The 
fine gentleman spends his money and gets noth- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


43 


ing in the end but what he eats, drinks and wears. 
Then comes the class to which I belong — the most 
sensible, the most philosophical class of all — who 
begin where the others leave off after years of labor, 
and are content with what they eat and wear, with- 
out troubling themselves about the source from which 
it comes. The tramp is the true philosopher, my 
boy, after all.” 

Harry, although not prepared to receive the doc- 
trine taught by his strange companion, was neverthe- 
less surprised to hear one of his class use such lan- 
guage. His ideal of a tramp was a low, brutal fel- 
low, with no education, and no thought but to beg 
or steal, yet here was a man who used good lan- 
guage — as good at least as he was accustomed to 
hear — who called himself a tramp and who claimed 
to be a philosopher. He could make no reply, and 
the tramp went on ; 

“ But this is not all. People who kick and curse 
the tramps do not know them. They call them vag- 
abonds, and so they are, but they are more. They 
are the beginning of the new order of things, and the 
time will come when they will be no longer vagrants, 
but rulers in this land. Then out of this will grow 
the equality of all men in all things. The world 
is just beginning to wake to true philosophy — this 
part of the world at least. It has been taught in 


44 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


France for a hundred years. Voltaire taught it; 
Jussieu taught it; Rousseau taught it; but the strong 
arm of despotism crushed it out. But here, in this 
free country, as they call it, where the laws are weak 
and slow to act, it has taken root, and will grow and 
gather strength until all the dreams of its early advo- 
cates will be realized. I spoke of the easy life of the 
tramp. I was then only speaking of the present. 
The tramp has a mission to perform, and when the 
time comes he will be ready. Perhaps three- fourths 
of those called tramps are just such easy-going vaga- 
bonds as I have described ; I am so myself half the 
time. But I am only waiting ; yes, there is a philos- 
ophy in this thing which will co^nvulse the world.” 

“And to what end?” asked Harry, interested in 
spite of himself. 

” To the end that all men may be equal, I tell 
you,” replied the tramp. “The earth was created 
for the habitation of man, and one man has as good 
a right to possess it as another. Because I was born 
after all this land was taken up, is that a reason why 
those in possession should deny me my share? No ; 
I tell you, the land belongs to all the people, and no 
man has a right to monopolize any part of it. The 
wealth of the world is the common property of all 
its inhabitants, and no set of men have a right to 
claim it for their peculiar possession. Shall I be 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


45 


cheated out of my share, and be forced to wear out 
my life in useless labor because some one happened 
to be here before me ? There’s the man who claims 
to own this field. He holds what he calls a deed for 
it according to law. Whose law ? yours or mine ? 
No, his law. Made by him and men like him who 
claim a monopoly of God’s fair earth. Made to suit 
themselves without consulting you or me. This law 
was made before we were born, and this land was all 
apportioned out years ago. Now what is to become 
of you, and me, and all who are so unfortunate as to 
be born poor, as they call it?” 

“But did not these men purchase their land, and 
does not that give them a right to it?” said Harry. 

“Suppose they did purchase it?” replied the 
tramp. “Whose money bought it? ” 

“Why, their own, I suppose,” replied Harry. 

“No, sir.” said the tramp. “It was your money, 
my money, everybody’s money. Where did it come 
from? It came from the soil that belongs to the peo- 
ple in common, from the mines which are the prop- 
erty of all mankind. It was wrung from the labor of 
the poor fools who still acknowledge the right of these 
usurpers. It is only the same thing in another shape. 
Let fools work for what is theirs by right ; I shall get 
my share in the easiest way I can, until the time 
comes to right this thing, and then let them beware. ” 


46 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ But will all people be able to live without work 
under this new order of things?” asked Harry, 

“No,” replied the tramp, “ but every man will 
then get the reward of his labor. Besides, nine- 
tenths of the work now done in the world is done to 
feed and pamper the rich — to gratify their expensive 
tastes and satisfy their inordinate ambition. The 
new arrangement will do away with all that. Each 
man will labor as his necessities require and no 
more.” 

“But would not this stop all improvement? ” asked 
Harry, now thoroughly interested and wishing to 
hear more of this strange doctrine, of which he had 
never dreamed before. 

“If by improvement you mean the great monopo- 
lies that are grinding the life out of the poor, yes,” 
replied the tramp. “But it would not stop the 
wheels of progress, for then all would have a com- 
mon interest in the improvement of the country. All 
the great railroad and telegraph lines, and canals, and 
manufactories, would be the common property of the 
people, directed by their representatives, or, as some 
think they should be, by the government. I tell you, 
boy, the time is sure to come, and sooner than most 
people think, too'. In the meantime, as I said be- 
fore, I shall do no labor for these harpies. I can live 
without it, and if you are wise you will do the same 
thing. What made you leave home?” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


47 


This question was so unexpectedly put that Harry 
could not answer at once. At length he said : 

“I am an orphan, and I did not like my home ; so 
I left it.” 

“ Ran away, eh?” 

“Yes.” 

“ What are you going to work at in Cincinnati ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“What can you do?” 

“I have always worked on a farm.” 

“Well, they don’t farm in Cincinnati.” 

“I know that,” said Harry. /‘I thought I would 
like to learn a trade.” 

“ What trade? ” 

” I don’t know.” 

“ Boy, stay with me. I will teach you the best 
trade in the world — that of independence. While 
we are waiting for the change, I will show you the 
world. You shall have nothing to do but roam at 
your will, stop when and where you please, and 
laugh at the fools who wear out their lives slaving 
for their masters, the rich.” 

“ But, certainly, beggary is not independence,” said 
Harry. 

“It is not beggary,” replied the tramp, fiercely. 
“ I tell you the world owes me a living, and I but 
take my own.” 


48 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ But,” said Harry, “it seems to me j^ou have for- 
gotten some things. This kind of life might do very 
well in this pleasant weather. But in the winter?” 

“Take a lesson from the birds, my boy,” said the 
tramp. “Turn your back on the winter and go 
south. Or, if you wish, you can do as many others 
do. Go to the station houses or the jails.” 

“The jails ! ” 

“Yes, why not? I’ve known a man spend the 
winter in jail, and live like a lord, while these same 
farmers were toiling in the ice and snow to feed those 
who had learned to do without work — though I con- 
fess that the jail is little to my taste, and I try to 
avoid it. I love my liberty at all times. But, if one 
wishes, it is very simple. The cold weather comes 
on and it is too disagreeable to travel. Well, 
pick up any little article, not too valuable, get caught 
at it, and your winter lodgings are ready provided for 
you — paid for by the country.” 

“ But suppose you get sick ? ” said Harry. 

“Well,” said the tramp, “let us suppose that you 
go to work as you intend, and you get sick. What 
then ? Will you be any better off than I am ? Not 
a bit. We both go to the hospital, or the poor- 
house. It amounts to the same thing in the end. 
Come, boy, will you go with me and lead the free 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


49 


and easy life of a tramp, or will you continue to toil 
that others may reap the fruits of your labors?” 

“Why do you wish me to go with you?” asked 
Harry. 

“I will tell you,” said the tramp. “You are 
young and handsome, and the women will give you 
always the best in the house, if you play your cards 
well. I am strong and know the country, and can 
lead you where we will fare the best, so that you see 
we will each help the other. Is that plain enough ? 
Come, what do you say?” 

Harry scarcely knew what to answer. He feared 
to speak his mind, for he was alone with one whom 
he knew to be a bold, desperate man, a thief by his 
own confession, and it might be worse. So he said ; 

“ Let me study on it until morning and I will tell 
you. I am sleepy now.” 

“All right,” said the tramp. “Go to sleep, but 
make up your mind in the morning. I have taken a 
fancy to you, and do not care to part with you.” 

Harry lay down and pretended to sleep, but his 
anxiety was too great to permit him to close his eyes. 
His thoughts were too intently bent upon getting 
away from his dangerous companion to give much 
attention to analyzing the sophistry he had just 
heard. 

/ 

But, while he is waiting for his companion to fall 
4 


50 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


asleep, the reader will pardon me if I offend his in- 
telligence by replying to some of it, for there are 
many otherwise sensible men who pretend to believe 
this doctrine. 


CHAPTER IV. 


COMMUNISM. 

The doctrines advanced by our tramp are held by 
• two distinct classes of persons. To the tramping 
fraternity there is one all-sufficient answer. If all 
things were to be equalized to-day, in less than a 
twelve-month these gentry would be back at their 
old occupation, eating the substance of better men. 
The other class, being honest in their belief, however 
mistaken in their conclusions, merit, perhaps, a more 
extended reply. 

The world has been rushing on over the railroad 
of progress like a train drawn by a mighty engine. 
There has been no pause or stay for those who have 
been so unfortunate as to be too late for the train, 
and all their envy of the more fortunate will not 
reverse the engine or bring it back to them; yet 
that is what many hope to do. The world has gone 
off and left them, and they think it should pause 
until they catch up. They attribute all their griev- 
ances to the fortunate achievements of others rather 


52 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


than to their own misfortunes — I will not say faults, 
for, in very many cases, to do them justice, it is no 
fault of theirs. 

The race, according to these persons, has been un- 
fair. We will not count this time, and will try it 
again. The time-piece of human progress must be 
regulated. We will lengthen the pendulum, and set 
back the hands. We will give the world a few thou* 
sand backward revolutions, just to equalize things. 
Communism is the power that is to accomplish this. , 
This is the Archimidean force which is to move the 
world, and only lacks the fulcrum upon which to rest 
the lever. 

Well, let us go back. Let us throw all things to- 
gether, and shake them up, and make an equal dis- 
tribution. Let us close our eyes to the reign of ter- 
ror that must ensue before this is done. Let us bury 
our dead from our sight, and wipe up the blood, and 
sweep up the ashes. Let us close our ears to the 
wail of tortured innocence and the brutal laugh of 
rapine and sensuality. Let us teach ourselves to 
gaze unmoved upon ruined homes and depopulated 
cities ; upon a land torn with dissensions, and sacked 
by pillage; upon a government dismembered and 
prostrate beneath the heel of anarchy ; upon a country 
shunned by the nations of the world and execrated 
by its own citizens ; upon the destruction of law and 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


53 


order and the rule of that worst of despotisms, the 
despotism of the mob. Have you done it? Well, 
now we are ready to begin our equalization. We 
are. now where society began thousands of years ago. 
What will you have? 

“ We want the land, machinery, railroads, tele- 
graphs, canals, to be made the common property of 
the whole people, through the government ; to abol- 
ish the wages system and substitute in its stead co- 
operative production, with a just distribution of its 
rewards. Society shall hold all things in common. 
Factories, railroads, banks, insurance, shops, markets 
— all will be run for the benefit of the people, as the 
post-office is now. No man shall have a monopoly 
of these things. Houses and lands all shall be regu- 
lated by the people through the government.” (See 
interview in New York Herald.) This, I believe, 
embraces the general idea of the doctrine of commu- 
nism as taught in the United States. It is laughed 
at and treated lightly by the majority of the intelli- 
gent people of our country. Even the newspapers, 
those great educators of the people, scarcely deign 
to do more than mention the dangerous doctrines of 
these agitators. Yet, when we remember that in 
countries where they had less hope of success than 
in ours they succeeded in overthrowing the estab- 
lished order of things, and in deluging the land in 


54 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


blood, is it wise to thus trifle with the perpetuity of 
our institutions? The tiger of the Indian jungle is 
more merciful than this monster of the commune. 
There is but one hope for a country when the virus 
of this dogma has once poisoned its veins, and that 
is in the education of the people — not through the 
schools, for the process is too slow ; but through 
that speedier and more effective means, the press. 
Communism in all its branches dreads this calcium 
light, which has the power to turn its counterfeit 
gold into its original brass, and its boasted jewels 
into paste. Let the press throw its light upon the 
scene, and show its specious pretences in their true 
colors. Not one in ten of those who profess to be- 
lieve this doctrine would adhere to it could they be 
brought to clearly see the end. But let the storm 
once break upon the country, and the maddening 
passions of anarchy will sweep the land with the be- 
som of destruction. 

But to return to this doctrine as taught by our 
American communists. The predominant idea ap- 
pears to be that all things shall be in common, regu- 
lated through the government. But how is this gov- 
ernment to be supported ? By taxation. But there 
is nothing to tax. A. owns nothing ; B. owns noth- 
ing, and experience has taught us that none are pat- 
riotic enough to pay what they can avoid. Will not 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


55 


your government find itself in a dilemma ? There is 
ro responsible party but the government. Shall it 
assess its own property, and pay itself the tax for its 
support ? 

“ But the government owns all the land, railroads, 
shops, markets, factories and everything. They will 
support it. There will be no need of taxes.” 

“ Indeed ! And who is to patronize the railroads, 
shops, etc.?” 

“The people, of course!” 

“ Where will they get their money?” 

“ From the government.” 

“And where will the government get its money?” 

“From the people.” 

“ Oh, yes ! I see. A kind of boomerang arrange- 
ment. But if no one has any private property no 
one will have any money.” 

“ But each man will be allowed to accumulate a 
certain amount of property.” 

“ Thank you ! For the especial purpose of pay- 
ing the government, I suppose. But how much?” 

“ Oh, the law will regulate that.” 

“But when this is all gone, as it will soon be in 
hundreds of cases, what then? Divide again?” 

“ Oh, no ; the government will see to that?” 

“ But, my dear sir, do you not see that this is but 
jumping from the frying-pan into the fire? To avoid 


56 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


a few individual monopolies, you give yourself, body 
and soul, into the hands of the greatest monopoly of 
which the mind of man ever conceived. What as- 
surance have you that you can direct this govern- 
ment after you have instituted it? Do you not com- 
plain now that you have no voice in the administra- 
tion of affairs? Well, what hope have you of doing 
better under the new order of things, unless, indeed, 
you intend to kill off all those who differ from you in 
opinion? You can not now agree among yourselves, 
except in the matter of destruction. For building 
up again you have as many plans as you have indi- 
viduals, and the more adherents you gain the more 
plans you will have. How will you decide the mat- 
ter? By majorities ? You are not willing to submit 
to that arbitration now. Will you be then? Your 
government, at best, could be no more than a gigan- 
tic haberdasher’s shop, without power, without dig- 
nity, without stability, and would be but the step- 
ping-stone to a despotism worse than that- of Tur- 
key.” 

I hope that those of my readers who have been 
able to see at once the absurdity of this doctrine will 
pardon me for this, to you, unnecessary chapter. It 
is not written for you, and you may as well skip it. 
But there are more than you think who are misled by 
the specious sophistry of these agitators, and to them 
this is especially addressed. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


57 


Under the new order of things which these men 
would inaugurate no man would labor more than was 
absolutely necessary for a mere support, for he would 
labor without hope. Even were it possible to accu- 
mulate money or property, he would at once become 
a bloated monopolist, and would be compelled to dis- 
gorge and divide with his less fortunate or more in- 
dolent neighbors. The country would be completely 
at the mercy bf every invader, for there would be no 
means of defense. Even the king of the Cannibal 
Islands, being more civilized and consequently more 
powerful than we, might, if he took it into his head 
to equalize things by annexing the United States, 
“make a just distribution of rewards” by handing 
us all over to his royal cooks. 

” But every citizen would be willing to fight for his 
country.” 

“My dear sir, he would have no country. He 
would have no interest anywhere. The people hav- 
ing no ambition, no hope of advancement, would be- 
come as indolent as the Hottentots of Africa. It is 
the hope of accumulating property that drives the 
wheels of progress. There is one grand old song, the 
sweetest in our language, which you must blot from 
the memory of the people before you begin your equal- 
ization : ‘Home, Sweet Home.’ It was this hope 
that, standing at the prow of the Mayflower while she 


58 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


battled with the Atlantic waves, pointed toward the 
promised land. It was this that gave the western 
pioneer strength and courage to combat wild animals 
and wilder Indians, and his ringing ax kept time to 
the music of that sweet song as progress beat her con- 
quering march across the continent from ocean to 
ocean — the hope of establishing for themselves homes 
that they could call their own — not to be the property 
of a commune, held as a part of the common property 
of all mankind, but absolutely their own, where they 
could live and love and rear their children, and trans- 
mit to them the just rewards of a life of labor and 
economy. And what is offered as a substitute for 
these desecrated homes? A dwelling-place regulated 
by law — a law subject to the caprice of the rabble. 
A home in which all tastes are made subservient to 

the will of a mob. What would such a home be to 

% 

an intelligent, thinking man or woman ? Have not 
the paupers better homes to-day in the poor-houses ? 
Better in that they have hopes of still advancing to 
better things, whereas the pauper of the commune 
has no power to change his condition.” 

But this chapter has already gone beyond the limits 
I intended, and I will drop the subject for the present. 

There is, however, another thing that you will have 
to suppress before you inaugurate your commune, 
and that is intelligence. Intelligence is ambitious. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


59 


and ambition accumulates property. Allow no man 
to be wiser than another, lest he repine at his lot, 
and instead of rendering him happy you force him to 
lead a life of wretchedness. First contrive some plan 
to regulate all mankind by your own standard of in- 
tellect. and you may hope to succeed. I doubt it 
even then ; for in a year there would be strife among 
you, as there was among the herdsmen of old, and 
you would be ready to say, as Abraham said to Lot, 
^‘Separate thyself from me, I pray thee. If thou 
wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right ; or 
if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the 
left.” 

Then the history of the world would be re-enacted, 
with all the disadvantages of four thousand years of 
retrogradation. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE MURDER. 

Harry lay for more than an hour perfectly still be- 
fore he ventured to rise upon his elbow and look about 
him. The night was dark, yet he could distinguish 
the outline of a wood that appeared to border the 
road at some distance, and he thought that he might 
escape by concealing himself there. 

will try it,” thought he. “I can be no worse 
off if I fail.” 

He rose to his feet, and moving slowly and cau- 
tiously away, he reached the road without waking 
the tramp, and with a beating heart walked rapidly 
toward the wood. Here he paused to listen. All 
was still. 

“ I will walk on,” he said to himself, “and before 
morning will be so far in advance that he can not 
overtake me.” 

He had almost passed through the wood when he 
heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming 
from the opposite direction. His adventure with the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


61 


tramp had made him suspicious, and he quickly hid 
himself by the side of the road to wait until the stran- 
gers had passed. When they came opposite his hid- 
ing-place he saw by the faint light that there were 
two of them, and could hear them conversing in low 
tones. Instead of passing on as he hoped, they 
paused and sat down within a few feet of him. He 
suppressed his breathing as much as possible, lest it 
should betray his presence, and listened eagerly. 

“ How long before he'll be here, d’ye think?” said 
one in a voice that made Harry start, it was so deep 
and peculiar in its tones. 

“Veil, not long now, I tink; half hour,” was the 
reply. 

“ Sure he’s got the money with him ?” 

“ I saw him draw it from ze bank.” 

“ Did you see where he put it?” 

“ In ze pocket of ze breast. He vas vary much 
careful, but I see him all ze same.” 

“ It is a good pile of money ; ’leven hundred and 
fifty dollars.” 

“ Mon Dieu, oui !” 

“ Well, we must make sure work of it. You stop 
the horse and I’ll clap the pistol in his face, and tell 
him to shell out.” 

“ Don’t kill him. Sacre ! I don’t like ze blood. 
It’s too much, vat you call him, reesk, eh ?” 


62 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Well, I won’t hurt the old chap if he’s reasona- 
ble, and comes down with the stamps ; but I’m goin’ 
to have that money, murder or no murder. But let’s 
get furder up the road, where the trees are thicker,” 

They passed on, and as soon as they were far 
enough away to permit him to leave his concealment 
without detection, Harry stole on his way, keeping 
in the deeper shadows of the trees until he was out 
of hearing of the men, and then ran with all his 
might until he was out of breath. Then he paused 
to think. Here were two rascals who intended to 
commit robbery, perhaps murder. The man they 
expected to rob was doubtless approaching on that 
road. Could he not meet him and warn him of his 
danger ? He would try. So he continued at a rapid 
pace, pausing now and then to listen for the sound 
of approaching wheels. Presently he reached a place 
where the road forked. Here was a dilemma. He 
stopped to listen. Far up the left-hand road he 
heard the sound of wheels. 

“That must be the man,” he said to himself, and 
ran on. 

P'or some little time he heard the sound whenever 
he stopped, but at last all was still. Could he have 
been mistaken ? He now regretted that he had not 
waited at the forks of the road until the man came 
along. This would have been the sensible plan, and 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


63 


he was just about to turn back, hoping to be yet in 
time to meet the man should he come by the other 
way, when he again heard the sound of wheels, this 
time on his right, and coming down a lane from a 
house which he could just discover through the 
gloom. The carriage, for such it was, turned into 
the road, and Harry called to the man who was its 
only occupant. 

“ Well, what do you want? ” said the man. 

The boy ran to the side of the vehicle and in 
broken and hurried words told his story. 

“Are you the man they want to rob?” he asked. 

“ No, I am a physician, and have just visited a sick 
man at that house. Let me think. Did the robbers 
describe this man they were waiting for? ” 

“No; only they spoke of him as an old man,” 
said Harry. 

“ He must be coming from Calusa,” said the doc- 
tor. “That is on the other road. Jump in. We 
may be in time yet.” 

Harry climbed in beside the doctor, who urged his 
horse rapidly on toward the forks of the road. Not 
a word was spoken until they reached this place, 
when the doctor checked his horse and said : 

“Listen ! ” 

“I hear the sound of wheels,” said Harry. 

“Which way?” asked the doctor. 


64 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“The way I came,” replied Harry, 

“Ah, I hear it now,” said the doctor. “He has 
passed, and is some distance ahead of us. I fear we 
are too late, but we may yet frighten the scoundrels 
off. Ho, there ! ” he shouted at the top of his voice, 
and, lashing his horse to its utmost speed, he dashed 
after the receding vehicle. They had just approached 
the wood near enough to perceive its outline through 
the darkness, when they were startled by a loud cry, 
followed, or rather accompanied, by the report of a 
pistol. The doctor shouted again, and dashed on. 
They had now reached the center of the wood, when 
the doctor’s horse shied from the middle of the road, 
and turned half round. 

“ Hold on,” cried he. “There’s something here. 
Hold the reins, my boy.” And he sprang from the 
carriage. As soon as the sound of their wheels 
ceased they heard the rattle of some vehicle dashing 
up the road at a fearful rate. 

“ He has escaped, sir,” said Harry. “Don't you 
hear his carriage?” 

“ That is his carriage, no doubt, my boy,” said the 
doctor. “But the man lies here.” 

“Oh, sir!” cried the boy, “is he dead? Have 
they killed him ? ” 

“I don’t know. I fear so,” replied the doctor. 
“He is insensible. I have a lantern under the car- 
riage seat. We will soon know.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


65 


The doctor took a small lantern from under the 
seat, and lighting it, approached the fallen man, whom 
Harry could now see lying on his face in the road. 
The doctor turned him over and held the lantern to 
his face. Harry looked, and turned away sick with 
horror. The man was dead — shot through the brain. 
His face was blackened by the powder from the pis- 
tol, and his gray hair was dabbled in his blood. 

“ Yes, he is dead,” said the doctor. “Help me to 
put him in the carriage. I know him. It is Enoch 
Cartwright, who lived at the next house. He has 
been murdered on his own farm.” 

As the doctor stepped to the horse’s head to turn 
him back into the road, the light of the lantern fell 
upon the trees, and Harry saw, peering from the dark- 
ness, a face that he recognized in a moment. It was 
Black Flynn. 

“Oh, sir, there’s a man,” he cried. 

“Where?” said the doctor, starting forward, but 
the face had disappeared, and they could hear the 
sound of some one running rapidly away through the 
underbrush. 

“That’s one of the scoundrels, no doubt,” said the 
doctor, “but it is useless to pursue him now. Let 
us get the body into the carriage.” 

The old man was of slight build, so it was no great 
task, and then they proceeded toward the house be- 
5 


66 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


fore mentioned, Harry walking ahead and carrying 
the lantern, and the doctor leading the horse. When 
they came opposite the house they found the old 
man’s carriage overturned against the fence, and the 
horse running wildly up and down the road. The 
noise had aroused the people at the house, and lights 
were seen moving about, and they heard the sound of 
opening and shutting doors. 

It is needless to pause here to attempt to describe 
the scene of grief and terror when the bloody corpse 
of the old farmer was borne into his home. 

At the coroner’s inquest, the next day, it was 
ascertained that the old man had been to town to 
draw money from the bank to make a payment on 
some land he had recently purchased. Something, 
it was not known what, had detained him until 
after night. Harry told the story of his night’s 
adventure, and it was supposed that one or both of 
the tramps had been dogging the old man, and as- 
certained by some means the time at which he 
might be expected at the spot where he met his 
death. Before the inquest was over word was 
brought in that a tramp had been arrested on sus- 
picion. He was brought into the room, and Harry 
recognized Black Flynn. The boy related to the 
coroner the history of his connection with the tramp, 
and stated that he had left* him asleep under the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


67 


hedge but a few minutes before his meeting with 
the men who committed the murder. Flynn stated 
that he had been aroused by the cry and the shot, and 
had naturally run down to the road to see what 
was the matter, and had discovered the doctor and 
Harry by the side of the murdered man. That 
was all he knew about it. This, with Harry’s evi- 
dence, satisfied the coroner, and he was released, 
and left the room. Harry hoped that he had seen 
the last of him, but he was mistaken, as those will 
find who pursue this narrative 

After the inquest Harry thought he would be al- 
lowed to depart, but was informed that it would be 
necessary to remain in the neighborhood to give fur- 
ther evidence in case the murderers were arrested. 

“But I have no place to stay,” said the boy. “I 
have no money, and I fear I can not get work here 
now.” 

“Still, it is very necessary for you to remain,” said 
the coroner. “The ofiicers and citizens are already 
scouring the country in all directions, and the mur- 
derers will probably be arrested before night. We 
will need you in that case to identify them.” 

“I don’t think I could do that, sir,” answered 
Harry. ” It was so dark that I could see nothing 
but the outlines of their forms in the shadows.” 

“ Well, you could probably tell something about 


68 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


them ; their size, for instance ; or you might recog- 
nize their voices,” 

Harry started. He remembered now the peculiar 
tones of that voice, and he said, on the impulse of 
that thought: 

“Yes, sir; I would know one of their voices, at 
least.” 

“ So you see, my boy,” replied the coroner, “it is 
very important to detain you as a witness.” 

“Yes, sir,” he replied, “but I have no place to 
stay.” 

The doctor, who had been an attentive listener to 
this conversation, now came forward. 

“ I will take the boy home with me, Mr. James,” 
said he. “ He can remain at my house for a day or 
two, at least. And if you are willing to work,” he 
continued, turning to Harry, “ I can give you some- 
thing to do until the thing is settled.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said the boy. “ I am perfectly 
willing to work for my board while I am compelled 
to remain.” 

“Very well. What is your name?” 

“Harry Lawson, sir.” 

“Well, Harry, come with me, and I will see what 
I can do for you.” 

Harry accompanied Dr. Blair to his home, which 
was in the edge of a small village a few miles beyond 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


69 


where they first met. When he ascertained that the 
boy had eaten nothing since the evening before, and 
that he had not slept for two nights, he first gave 
him a hearty dinner, and then, showing him the room 
he was to occupy, ordered him to bed. Harry de- 
murred at first but yielded at last, and was soon 
sound asleep. 


CHAPTER VI. 


CAPTURE OF THE TRAMPS. 

On the morning following the night of the murder, 
two men crept from under a haystack which stood in 
a small meadow about three miles from the scene of 
the tragedy. These were Sandy Hines and Toney 
Bazin. The place of their concealment was admir- 
ably adapted to that purpose. The meadow was 
far from any house, surrounded on the east, north 
and west by woods, and on the south by a large 
corn field. To this place they had fled as soon as the 
deed was committed. It had not been the intention 
of the tramp to kill the old man, but, hearing the ap- 
proach of the doctor’s carriage, and meeting more 
resistance than he expected, for the old man fought 
hard for his money, he had shot his victim, dragged 
him from the carriage and tore the pocket-book from 
his breast pocket, where his companion had informed 
him he had seen it placed when the money was 
drawn from the bank. The two robbers then sprang 
into the woods, and, by the time Dr. Blair and 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


71 


Harry came on the scene they were beyond sight 
and hearing. 

After crawling from their hiding-place they sat 
down to count the money. Sandy , did this, while 
the Frenchman looked over his shoulder. 

“One, two, three,” counted Sandy, as he turned 
over the bills; “ four, five, six, seven ” 

The Frenchman’s eyes sparkled like fire, and his 
hands trembled as he half reached toward the notes. 

“Eight, nine, ten, ’leven and a fifty,” counted 
Sandy. “ There it is. ’Leven hundred-dollar bills 
and a fifty.” 

The Frenchman reached out his hand without a 
word. Sandy moved his farther away. 

“No,” he said, “ we can’t divide it now. They’re 
after us hot, somewhere, not far off, you bet, and we’ll 
have to hide it till this thing blows over a little. 
That’s what I stopped here for. If we try to git away 
now, we’ll be taken, sure, for they’re watchin’ all the 
roads, and them infernal telegraphs will head us off. 
And if we’re cotched and we’ve got this money, don’t 
you see it will stretch our necks? But if they don’t 
find anything on us, what can they do ? Nobody 
saw us but the old man, and he’s too dead to skin. 
No, we’re agoin’ to plant this money somewhere, 
where we can find it agin’, and then we’ll lay ’round 
here till they give the thing up, then we’ll dig it up 
and skip out.” 


72 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Veil, I don’t know,” said Toney. “You gifs me 
my moneys, and I takes care of him.” 

“It can’t be did,” said Sandy, decidedly. “I’m 
not agoin’ to risk my neck with lettin’ you be took 
with any of this money. For don’t you see, they’ll 
want to know who’s got the other half, and I won’t 
take no chances. We’ve got to stick together in this 
thin^. D’ye see ? ” 

The Frenchman was evidently dissati.sfied, but he 
said nothing, and the two left the meadow and ert- 
tered the woods. No sooner had they disappeared 
than a man rose from behind a fence near by, and 
stole silently after them. It was Black Flynn. The 
robbers hunted some time before they found a spot 
which appeared to suit their purpose. At last they 
paused at the foot of a large oak which grew in a 
dense thicket. While they were busily engaged in 
digging a hole and hiding the money, Flynn crawled 
cautiously and silently as a serpent through the 
bushes until he had reached a spot from which he 
could watch their actions. When the money was 
hidden and the grass and leaves replaced above the 
spot to give all things a natural appearance, Sandy 
and Toney arose and departed. Flynn lay still until 
the sound of their footsteps had died away in the 
distance, and then he stole to the root of the tree, un- 
earthed the treasure, replaced the dirt and the grass 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


73 


and leaves, and walked off in the opposite direction. 
At the distance of about a mile from this place, he, in 
his turn, hid the money, marking the spot in such a 
way as to know it again, and then proceeded boldly 
toward the scene of the murder. 

In an hour after he was arrested, but was released 
again, as we have already seen. 

Sandy and the Frenchman returned to their hiding 
place, all unconscious that their blood-bought prize 
had disappeared. Here they remained until about 
the middle of the afternoon, when hunger drove them 
forth in search of food. This was close at hand. 
The corn field before mentioned was full of roasting 
ears, that luxury which, in its season, is ever ready 
and ever welcome to the hungry tramp. Having 
listened attentively a moment to assure themselves 
that no one was near them, they carried about a 
dozen of these into the woods and built a fire. This 
they allowed to burn into a bed of coals, and then, 
without removing the husks, they covered the corn 
up in the embers. In about half an hour their sup- 
per was ready, and they dispatched it with the eager- 
ness of men always in a chronic state of hunger ; for 
the tramp lives to eat, while others eat to live. His 
tastes are not always gratified, it is true, but there is 
no greater glutton, naturally, than your professional 
tramp. 


74 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Scarcely had they finished eating, however, when 
they heard the barking of a dog, and then a loud 
shout in the direction of their former place of con- 
cealment. They sprang to their feet and listened. 
They heard an answering call to the left of them, 
and then shouts and loud talking to their rear. 
They were surrounded. 

“D — n them,” said Sandy, springing upon a log 
and looking hurriedly about him, “they have tracked 
us with dogs. Into the corn field, Toney, quick 1 
If we can dodge them till night we’ll give them 
the slip yet.” 

If the tramps had been wise they would not have 
run away. The chances of their capture were almost 
certain, and flight would be one of the surest evi- 
dences of their guilt ; whereas, should they allow 
themselves to be quietly taken, the worst that could be 
definitely charged to them would be stealing the corn. 
But guilt is timid as a hare, and sometimes equally as 
foolish. So, obeying the first promptings of a guilty 
conscience, they sprang into the corn field and began 
to make their way through it. The tall stalks hid 
them from view, but the ground was soft and be- 
trayed their steps. The tramps saw this at a glance, 
but it was now too late ; so they ran on. Presently 
they heard a shout at the spot they had just left. 
Their pursuers had found the fire. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


75 


“To the corn field,” cried a voice. “ They will 
take to the corn field ! ” 

The Frenchman turned pale, and Sandy set his 
teeth hard. 

"Quick,” he said. "Let’s make to the south. 
Maybe they’re not on that side yet.” 

Then again a voice came, striking terror to their 
hearts, ” They’re in the corn field. Here’s where 
they went in. Look out ! Close up around the 
corn field.” 

And now began an exciting chase. The fugitives 
heard the sound of their pursuers crashing through 
the corn on every side of them, and were obliged to 
dodge about and double on their tracks like hunted 
rabbits. They had this advantage, however, they 
ran silently and avoided shaking the corn, while their 
pursuers, taking no pains to conceal their movements, 
made a great deal of noise, and thus enabled their 
prey to elude them; besides, they frequently mistook 
each other for the game they were hunting, and were 
thus delayed in their pursuit. " Here they go! here 
they go I ” would be shouted every few minutes, as 
the tramps were discovered down the long rows of 
corn, but before they could be reached they had dis- 
appeared again. Oh I it was a gallant race. Fifty 
infuriated men, maddened by the excitement of the 
chase, cruel and indefatigable as blood-hounds, re- 


76 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


morselessly pursuing their human prey, while the 
flying tramps, pale with terror, their breasts heaving 
with exertion, and great drops of sweat rolling down 
their pallid cheeks, ran for their lives. To an unin- 
terested spectator the whole scene would have borne 
such an appearance of fiendish cruelty that his sym- 
pathies would have gone out to the terror-stricken 
fugitives, and he would almost have prayed for their 
escape. But such deeds of brutality had been com- 
mitted, time and again, by the tramps, that now, they 
had culminated in a cold-blooded, unprovoked mur- 
der, was it any wonder that the self-constituted aveng- 
ers of these crimes should be as remorseless as death 
in their pursuit of the villains? 

After what appeared to the frightened men as an 
age of misery they came to a fence. Beyond this 
was a large open field. To cross this was their only 
chance, for to retrace their steps, or to remain where 
they were, was certain capture. 

“ Now, Toney,” panted Sandy, as he climbed the 
fence, ” we ’d better separate.” 

“No, we keeps together this time, too,” said the 
Frenchman. 

“ Very well, then; come on ! ” was the reply, as he 
sprang into the field. “If you ever ran, now’s your 
time.” 

Toney followed close at his heels. Beyond the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


77 


open field was another corn field. For this they ran. 
They had reached the middle of the open space 
they were crossing when they heard again the loud 
shouts of their pursuers. 

“There they go! There they go! Across the 
stubble field ! ” 

Bang ! Bang ! went a revolver, but at too great a 
distance to do any hurt. 

“Keep along the fence! Head them off ! They ’re 
making for the other corn field!” were cries which 
reached the ears of the terrified tramps. 

Then they heard the clatter of horses’ feet. 

“Throw down the fence ! Let me into the field! ” 
cried a voice. 

The sound of falling rails was heard, and the thun- 
der of hoofs. The tramps looked back over their 
shoulders as they ran, and their hearts sank with de- 
spair. A man was riding furiously toward them, 
surrounded by a cloud of dust, which trailed behind 
him like the smoke from a running locomotive. He 
gained at every stride, and as he came' near, Sandy 
stopped and drew a revolver. His first impulse was 
to fire, but on second thought he saw that it would 
be madness. Even if he killed this man his capture 
was certain, and then conviction would surely follow, 
if not immediate execution at the nearest tree. The 
man saw the pistol, and, presenting his own, shouted 
as he rode toward them : 


78 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Drop your pistols and throw up your hands, or I 
will shoot you ! ” 

The tramps obeyed, and the man kept them cov- 
ered with his pistol until several of his companions 
came up, when the fugitives were seized and bound. 

“ What does all this mean?” asked Sandy, with a 
great assumption of indignation. 

“You’ll find out pretty quick what it means,” said 
one. 

“To the woods with them ; string them up ! ” cried 
another. 

“Yes, that’s the talk. Let’s make short work of 
it. They ’ll never kill another man,” was answered 
from the crowd. 

“No,” said the man who had first overtaken them ; 
don’t let us be hasty. We’ve got no positive evi- 
dence yet. We will take them to jail.” 

This cooler counsel prevailed, for in fact they had 
no direct evidence against them. All was yet sus- 
picion, although this was rendered almost a certainty 
to the minds of their captors by their attempt to 
escape. 

“Search them ! ” cried one. 

This was done. A dozen ready hands soon per- 
formed the work, but nothing was found to criminate 
them. There were no visible signs of blood on their 
clothing, and nothing to prove that they were the 
parties guilty of the murder. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 79 

The men appeared disappointed. Sandy observed 
this, and it gave him courage. 

"Well, can’t you tell a feller what all this means?” 
he said. 

"You’ll find that out when you get to Calusa, ” 
was the reply. 

"You’ve no right to arrest a man in this way. 
Where’s your warrant?” 

" Oh, that ’s all right. There ’s one in the crowd 
somewhere. Come on, men ; let ’s be off with them. 
It’ll soon be night.” 

So the tramps were captured, and that night lodged 
in the jail at Calusa. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE justice’s COURT. 

Harry was so worn out with his unusual exertions 
and loss of sleep, that he did not awake until after 
daylight the next morning, and not even then, until 
the doctor came to call him to breakfast. 

“ Well, Harry,” said Dr. Blair, after the meal was 
over, ” you have had a good rest, and, I suppose, are 
ready for business this morning.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy, thinking the doctor 
referred to some work that he was to do.' 

“Have you any other clothing in that bundle you 
have with you ? ” 

“Yes, sir; that is my Sunday suit.” 

“ Put it on, then, for we must go to the trial.” 

“The trial, sir,” exclaimed Harry. “ Have they 
caught the murderers?” 

“They have caught two men who may turn out to 
be the right ones. There is no evidence, as yet, how- 
ever, except that they had been seen lurking about 
the neighborhood for several days, and one of them 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


81 


was seen in Calusa on the day preceding the murder. 
The teller of the bank where the old man drew the 
money noticed a man who looked like a tramp, hang- 
ing about the door while the old man was getting his 
money, and thinks he can recognize him again. 
The strongest evidence, so far, however, appears to 
be the desperate efforts which they made to escape 
capture when they were found in the woods. The 
trial is to take place before the justice at Calusa. It 
is probable that you can throw some light upon the 
affair. What do you think?” 

“ I think,” said Harry, “ that I could recognize the 
voice of one of them. It was a peculiar voice, and 
made a deep impression on my mind at the time. I 
am not certain, though, sir.” 

” Well, it is worth a trial,” said Dr. Blair. “ Let 
us go.” 

The town of Calusa was situated about five miles 
from the little village near which the doctor lived. 
On arriving at the town they found a great crowd 
about the justice’s office. Everybody appeared to be 
excited, and there was much loud talk and some 
threats of lynching the prisoners. The people had 
already condemned them in their own minds, and it 
would have taken little to turn that excited assembly 
into a mob. 

This impulsive vehemence appears to be almost 

. 6 


82 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


characteristic of our western people. Quick in im- 
pulse, they decide in their own minds the guilt or in- 
nocence of the accused persons, and, too frequently, 
arrogate to themselves the prerogatives of judge, jury 
and executioner. 

Yet I have known men, convicted and sentenced 
for the crime of murder, who were pardoned in less 
than a year at the earnest petition of the very men 
whom nothing but the vigilance and courage of the 
officers of the law prevented from summarily execut- 
ing them on their first arrest for the crime ; and that, 
too, before they had even a preliminary examination. 
I have seen these same men walk free upon the 
streets, and clasp in friendly greeting the hands of 
th^ very men before whom they trembled when noth- 
ing intervened between the self-constituted avenger 
and his victim but the revolvers of the sheriff and his 
assistants. Truly, the passions of man are hard to 
understand. 

Dr. Blair and Harry passed through the crowd and 
entered the room where the trial was to be held, and 
where the constables had the prisoners in charge. 
These it is unneccessary to describe, as the reader 
has already formed their acquaintance. 

The justice had just begun the examination when 
Dr. Blair and Harry entered. 

“ What is your name?” he asked of the larger of 
the two prisoners. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


83 


“Sanford Hines; called Sandy for short,” an- 
swered the prisoner, with an insolent air, for the 
fact that there appeared to be but little evidence 
against them had given them courage, and both ap- 
peared defiant. 

Harry started, and seized the doctor by the arm 
when he heard this man speak. 

“You recognize the voice? ” whispered the doctor. 

“I do,” answered Harry, in the same tone. “If 
the other talks in broken English, they are certainly 
the men who committed the crime.” 

“ What is your occupation ?” asked the justice. 

“I am an iron puddler. ” 

“ Where did you work last ? ” 

“ At Pittsburg.” 

“When?” 

“ Three years ago.” 

“ What have you been doing since ? ” 

“Traveling.” 

“Tramping, you mean.” 

“ Well, it’s all the same.” 

A few more questions of the same nature were 
asked, and then the justice turned to the other man : 

“What is your name?” he asked. 

“Toney Bazin,” was the reply. 

“What do you follow?” 

“ I haf no trade, sair.” 


84 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Dr. Blair looked at Harry. The latter nodded. 

'‘How do you earn your living?” continued the 
justice. 

“I vorks zometimes at ze one ting, zometimes at 
ze ozer.” 

“Sanford Hines and Toney Bazin,” said the jus- 
tice, “you are charged with the murder and robbery 
of one Enoch Cartwright, a farmer of this township, 
on the night of July 19th, of this year. What have 
you to say to the charge? Are you guilty or not 
guilty ? ” 

“Not guilty,” said Sandy. 

“Not guilty, sair,” said the Frenchman. 

The witnesses for the prosecution were then called. 
Harry told his story in a straightforward way, which 
carried with it a conviction of its truth. When the 
prisoners heard for the first time that their conversa- 
tion had been overheard, they looked at each other 
and changed countenance. Sandy glanced hurri- 
edly toward the door. Harry’s eyes followed the 
look, and there, pressing among the crowd, but half 
a head above them, stood Black Flynn. The boy 
whispered to the doctor, who in turn held a hurried 
conversation with the justice in a low tone, but when 
they again glanced in that direction the man was 
gone. 

“ He should have been held when he was first ar- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


85 


rested,” said the doctor. “His presence here proves 
that he is in some way connected with these men.” 

Harry was asked if he recognized the prisoners, 

“Only by their voices,” was the answer, 

“Can you describe those voices?” asked the jus- 
tice. 

“One was a very deep, hoarse voice,” said Harry, 
“and the other was that of a Frenchman, or some 
one who talked broken English. ” 

Sandy turned pale, and grasped the back of his 
chair, as if he would crush the wood with his hercu- 
lean hand, and the Frenchman set his teeth together 
with a vicious snap. 

“ Were the voices like those of these men ?” asked 
the justice. 

“They were the same voices, I am confident,” said 
Harry. 

The hopeless look that came, for a moment, into 
the faces of the two men, was pitiable to see. As 
soon, however, as they saw the eyes of the crowd 
turned toward them, they tried to shake off their ter- 
ror, and again assumed a look of dogged insolence. 
The murmurs about the door grew louder, and the 
constable had to call for order before the trial could 
proceed. The bank teller now gave his evidence. 
He thought that he recognized in the Frenchman the 
man whom he saw hanging about the bank when the 
old man drew his money, but was not quite certain. 


86 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


The keeper of a hotel in the suburbs of the town 
testified that Mr. Cartwright stopped at his house 
about sundown, and stated that he was waiting for a 
man with whom he had some business. That, while 
the deceased sat in the room, a man came to the 
door and looked in. He did not see him fairly, but 
thought that the man who called himself Toney Ba- 
zin was the person. He might, however, be mis- 
taken. Soon after, the gentleman for whom Mr. 
Cartwright had been waiting came in, and they were 
in close conversation until it was quite late. 

This man came forward voluntarily and stated that 
his business with Mr. Cartwright was with reference 
to the purchase of some property which the latter 
owned in the town. He said that when they parted 
the deceased had mentioned that he did not like to 
ride home alone in the night, as he had a consider- 
able amount of money with him. 

The toll-gate keeper stated that he was still up 
when Mr. Cartwright passed through the gate. It 
was quite late — well on toward midnight. He re- 
membered that a man had passed through on foot, 
perhaps an hour before the deceased, but he did not 
notice him. Could not say whether it was one of the 
prisoners. 

Dr. Blair gave his evidence as to the finding of the 
body, corroborating, in part, Harry’s story. The ev- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 37 

idence before the coroner’s jury was also introduced, 
but it added little to that now given. 

The prisoners were then asked what they had to 
say in their defense. They still asserted their inno- 
cence, and said that, if time and opportunity were 
given them, they would be able to prove an alibi. 
As they made no effort in this direction, however, 
although every opportunity was offered 1:hem, the 
justice remanded them to jail, to await the action of 
the grand jury, and the court adjourned. 

The confusion outside increased, and cries of 
“ Bring ropes ! Let’s string them up ! ” were heard. 

The prisoners by this time had lost all their 
bravado, and trembled with fear. The justice, how- 
ever, whispered a few words to the constables, and 
then pressed his way through the crowd in the house, 
and began to talk to the mob outside. He counseled 
prudence and order; told them that the men were 
committed to jail; that the grand jury would meet 
shortly, and that, no doubt, a true bill would be found 
against the murderers, and they would be held for 
trial at the next term of court. He assured them 
that justice would be done, and begged them, in the 
name of law and order and decency, to disperse. 

In the meantime the constables had taken the pris- 
oners away by another door, opening into an adjoin- 
ing apartment, and before the mob were aware of the 


88 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


State of the case, the tramps were safe in jail, though 
still pale and trembling from the effects of their fright. 

It was now more than ever necessary that Harry 
should remain as a witness, and Dr. Blair entered 
into bond for his appearaece when wanted, and then 
went home, taking Harry with him. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A PLOT. 

Months passed on. The grand jury found a true 
bill against the two men for murder in the first degree, 
and their trial was to come on in June. Meantime 
Harry had become a valued and honored inmate of 
the doctor’s home. His duties consisted in taking 
care of the doctor’s horses and performing chores 
about the house. He was active and intelligent, and 
the more the doctor saw of him the better he liked 
him. Dr. Blair’s family consisted of his wife and a 
daughter, a year younger than Harry. 

Mrs. Blair treated Harry like a son, and her 
daughter treated him like a brother. One day, 
toward the last of May, Dr. Blair said to Harry: 

“In two weeks the trial, comes on. Have you 
thought of what you will do when it is over?’’ 

“I have not,” replied the boy. 

“I suppose,” continued the doctor, “that you will 
be for tramping again ? ” 

“I shall never be a tramp,” replied Harry. “If 


90 


THE MAN WHO TEAM PS. 


you can not give me employment after the trial I 
shall seek for it elsewhere, and find it as soon as 
possible.” 

“Would you like to remain here? ” 

“Above all things, if you can give me work.” 

“I have been thinking, Harry,” said Dr. Blair, 
“that you are capable of better things than you 
have been doing.” 

“ Do not think me vain, sir,” replied the boy, 
“when I say that I have felt so myself, and I intend 
in time to attempt better things.” 

“ Why not now, Harry ? ” 

“Show me the chance,” answered the boy, “and 
all that one of my age and limited attainments can 
do, I will do.” 

“ What have you thought of — a profession? ” 

“Perhaps so, in time, sir; but now all I desire is 
some place to earn my living, while I watch for the 
opportunity to better my condition.” 

“Watching will not do it, my boy,” said the doc- 
tor. “It IS action that wins success.” 

“Oh! sir; you are so kind, so wise, show me how 
to act.” 

“That I will, my boy, I will not hesitate to tell you 
that I believe in your earnestness of purpose in this 
thing. I like you. I have watched you closely since 
you have been with me, and I think you have in you 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


91 


that which, properly developed, will make you a use- 
ful member of society. If you desire to stay with me 
for the present, you can do so. I will give you a 
chance to earn your living, since you have a very 
proper pride in that direction. In the meantime you 
can have access to my library. Read, my boy, read 
and think. You need not read medicine. You are 
not prepared for that yet, even though you should 
choose to follow my profession. But read history ; 
read biography ; read the works of the great think- 
ers, and you will find that your inclination and talent 
will soon shape your course for you. In September 
our academy opens again ; you shall attend school, 
and if you are what I think you, Harry, I will find 
that my help has not been thrown away.” 

“Oh, sir,” cried Harry, “how can I thank you ? 
It has been the dream of my life to have such a chance. 
When I lived with Mr. Shannon he sent me to school 
three months in the year. I have no doubt that it 
was all he could do. It was all that I could expect. 
But the time was so short, and I was always looking 
forward with dread to the time when school would 
close. Mr. Shannon had no books, and out of school 
it was nothing but drudge and drudge from morning 
till night, with no chance of learning.” 

“ You are wrong, my boy,” said Dr. Blair. “ Ed- 
ucation is not all contained in books. Even in drudg- 


92 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


ing, as you call it, there are many opportunities of 
improving the mind ; and the intelligent, thinking per- 
son will soon rise above drudgery. Remember, boy, 
that there is no disgrace in any kind of honest labor. 
The disgrace is in neglecting opportunities to fit your- 
self for a higher and more useful life. There are al- 
ways enough of those who will not or can not, do 
better, to fill the station of ‘ drudges,’ as you call 
them. Do you fit yourself for something else.” 

“ I will do so,” said Harry, his heart swelling and 
his eyes flashing. ‘'Only give me a chance.” 

“ I will give you the start, boy; you must make your 
own chances,” said the doctor. 

So it was settled. Harry was to remain an inmate 
of Dr. Blair’s family, paying for his board, as he had 
been doing, by his labor, and to attend school in the 
village. The doctor informed his wife and daughter 
of this arrangement. Mrs. Blair spoke kindly and 
encouragingly to the boy, and little Carrie, the doc- 
tor’s fair-haired, blue-eyed daughter, came and took 
him by the hand and looked trustingly up into his face, 
and said : 

“ I am so glad. Now you will be my brother, will 
you not?” 

“Yes, Carrie,” said Harr)', “I will be your 
brother,” and he turned away and stole to his 
room with his heart full of gratitude and his eyes 
swimming in tears. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. ' 93 

The first thing the kind-hearted Mrs. Blair did was 
to provide the boy with suitable clothes. 

“You can pay me,” she said laughing, “ out of the 
first money you earn in your new profession. So 
don’t be proud, Harry, and wound me by refusing 
them.’’ 

Harry accepted. Somehow, it did not seem like 
receiving charity to accept things from this kind- 
hearted family. In his new, neatly fitting suit he 
looked quite like a gentleman’s son, and he felt all 
the more satisfaction that his appearance would now 
do no discredit to the kind doctor’s family. Dr. 
Blair, besides practicing his profession, was a farmer 
in a small way ; or, rather, he owned a small farm 
on which his residence stood, and he superintended 
its culture. The work was principally done by a 
man who lived in another house on the place, but 
during the busy season he sometimes hired extra 
help. One day he announced that he had hired a 
young man to assist Mr. Gwin, the man before al- 
luded to, and that he would be an inmate of their 
home for a few weeks. That evening this man ate at 
the doctor’s table, and Harry saw him for the first 
time. He did not like his looks. He was about 
twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, rather short 
in stature and heavy set, with small, uneasy looking 
eyes and a low, receding forehead. During the meal 


94 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Harry found that this man, who had given his name 
as Perry Blake, was watching him narrowly at every 
opportunity, when he thought himself unobserved, 
but when the boy looked him squarely in the face 
the man’s eyes fell and he seemed confused. All 
this impressed Harry unfavorably, yet he thought 
that perhaps it was nothing more than awkwardness 
or bashfulness, and tried to dismiss the subject from 
his mind. After the meal was over and this man had 
gone to his work about the barn, Mrs. Blair asked 
her husband where he had found him. The doctor 
confessed that he knew nothing about him. That he 
came to him to solicit work, and Mr. Gwin happen- 
ing to be in need of help at that time, he had employed 
him. 

“There is something in his appearance that I do 
not like,’’ said Mrs. Blair. 

“ Well, I can ’t say that he is very prepossessing,’’ 
said the doctor, laughing; “but good looks are not 
absolutely essential to a farm hand, and so I suppose 
we must forgive his lack of beauty if he performs his 
work well, and time will decide that.’’ 

“ Did you notice his eyes, mamma?’’ asked Carrie. 
“ He can ’t look you in the face.’’ 

“Oh ho! that’s it, is it?’’ laughed the doctor. 
“So my young lady prefers to be stared at, and be- 
cause this poor fellow fails to pay her the homage she 
expects, she does not like him. Is that it, puss?’’ 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


95 


“ Now pa, you know it is n’t,” said the young lady 
decidedly. “I don’t care, he looks just like the 
tramps who come begging at the kitchen door. Be- 
sides, I was not thinking of myself at all. I referred 
to Harry. I saw the fellow look at him slyly from 
under his lids, but when Harry looked at him his 
eyes fell, and he could not look up. I don’t like 
him.” 

“And what do you think of him, Harry,” asked 
the doctor. 

“ I don’t know,” replied the boy, “ perhaps he is 
only bashful.” 

“Yes, that’s it,” replied Dr. Blair. ” But this is 
giving a great deal of importance to a very small 
subject. Of course he is not here as an associate, 
only as a farm hand. He can occupy the little room 
at the end of the hall, beyond Harry’s, and he will 
not interfere with the peculiar tastes of these ladies, 
I assure you.” So he dismissed the subject. 

But the doctor’s wife and daughter were right. 
There was something wrong, and if they could only 
have understood it at once what trouble and sorrow 
they all might have avoided. 

Perry Blake performed his work well, and gave no 
cause of complaint, and the prejudices against him 
died out as the days passed on and they became 
familiar with his presence about the house. Two or 


96 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


three times he was absent all night, but as he stated 
that he had been stopping with a friend at Calusa, 
nothing was thought of the matter. Once Harry 
saw him in conversation with a man near the barn, 
and, as he approached, the stranger walked rapidly 
away. There was something in the movements 
and general appearance of this man which seemed 
familiar to the boy, but as it was in the dusk of the 
evening he could not be certain ; but he thought 
to himself “that looks like Black Flynn.” When, 
however, he asked Blake who it was, the latter 
replied that it was a friend from Calusa, and Harry 
did not pursue the subject. 

Thus matters remained for two weeks. It lacked 
but three days of the trial. In the evening the doc- 
tor asked Harry to ride to Calusa and get his watch, 
which he had left there with the watchmaker to be 
repaired. He gave him an order for the watch, and 
with a light heart the boy rode away. As he passed 
the front of the house Mrs. Blair and Carrie were 
standing on the porch. The doctor’s wife nodded 
kindly to him, and the daughter waved her handker- 
chief gayly after him. Harry looked back at the 
turn of the lane and raised his hat. 

“Isn’t he handsome?” said Carrie, with childish 
unconsciousness. 

“Do you think so?” said Mrs. Blair, looking at 
her daughter with a smile. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


97 


“And honest, and brave, and good?” continued 
the girl, not noticing her mother’s smile. 

“Take care, Carrie,” said Mrs. Blair. “Young 
ladies of your age must not think too much of brave 
and handsome young gentlemen of seventeen.” 

“Pshaw! mamma,” said the girl with a blush, 
“ isn’t he my brother, or the same as a brother? ” 

“And yet, Carrie, you must remember the circum- 
stances under which he came here, and that we have 
not known him quite a year.” 

“ What of that?” said the girl with some show of 
spirit. “ Don’t we know that he is kind, and honest, 
and true. You know he is.” 

“I hope so,” replied the mother. “Indeed, I am 
fully convinced of it. Poor boy, he has had a hard 
life.” 

“But that is all over now,” said Carrie; “since 
papa has taken the matter in hand, I know that he 
will become a great and good man.” 

“ I hope so,” said Mrs. Blair, thoughtfully. 

“He is not like other boys of the village,” con- 
tinued the girl, gazing dreamily down the road where 
the subject of this conversation had disappeared from 
sight. ‘ ‘ They are horrid teases, rough as bears, and 
so rude. He has never said an unkind word since he 
has been here. He is always patient, no matter how 
much I tease him, always kind and ready to help me 
7 


98 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


with my flowers, and you know, mamma, he under- 
stands nearly as much as I do about music, although 
he told me that he never saw a piano until he came 
here, and did not know one note of music from an- 
other.” 

” He has certainly been a very apt pupil, and I fear 
you are a very partial teacher. Be careful, Carrie, 
that your interest in this boy does not grow into 
something more than mere sisterly affection,” said 
Mrs. Blair, as she looked kindly down into her daugh- 
ter’s face for a moment, and then, turning, entered 
the house. 

Carrie was startled at her mother’s words, and 
although scarcely understanding them, she blushed 
and sighed as she looked down the road over which 
hung a thin cloud of dust, marking the way he had 
gone. 

But while this conversation was going on between 
mother and daughter, another scene was enacting in 
a different part of the house, which was destined to 
materially change the status of things at the doctor’s 
home. • 

Perry Blake heard the doctor give Harry directions 
about getting the watch, and had they been noticing 
him then, they would have seen a change come into 
those uncertain looking eyes. They appeared to 
fairly dance with delight. He was evidently pleased 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


99 


from some cause. He stole away from the house and 
went to the barn. Here he remained until he saw 
Harry ride down the lane. The doctor had gone to 
see Mr. Gwin, and the other occupants of the house 
were standing on the porch, as we have said. Perry 
Blake entered the house through the kitchen and 
passed up stairs, as if to go to his room. But he 
did not go so far. He stopped in front of Harry’s 
door. He listened. He could hear the voices of 
Mrs. Blair and her daughter in conversation, and he 
knew that he would not be disturbed in the work 
he had now on hand. He entered the room. Harry’s 
clothes, the suit he had brought in his bundle to the 
doctor’s house, were hanging in a little closet. These 
he made into a bundle, which he tied up in a handker- 
chief, and, concealing it under his coat, stole softly 
down the stairs. As he passed through the sitting 
room he saw a valuable bracelet lying on a table. 
He snatched it up and thrust it into his pocket, then 
passing out of the house as he had entered it, he 
went to the barn again and concealed his plunder 
among some barrels in the granary, and proceeded 
with his evening’s work as if nothing had happened, 
and when Dr. Blair returned there was no indication 
that anything was wrong. But as soon as the doctor 
entered the house, Blake stole away and walked rap- 
idly in the direction of the great swamp before men- 


100 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


tioned, taking his stolen goods with him. In little 
more than half an hour’s hard walking and running 
he was there. There were but few of the tramps on 
the island, but among those present was Black Flynn. 
Although most of the tramps from this neighborhood 
had gone east, as intimated in a previous chapter, 
Flynn had remained, and many of his gang had re- 
turned, the anticipated strike having proved a fail- 
ure. Perry Blake held a hurried conversation with 
Flynn, who in turn spoke a few rapid words to three 
of his companions, and they at once left the island 
by means of the bridge of fallen trees. After they 
had departed, Flynn said : 

‘‘‘Now, Shorty, you must go back at once.” 

“What for?” asked Blake, or Shorty, as Ije had 
been called. “Isn’t my work done? I’m tired of 
this thing. Here I’ve been mor’n two weeks, a workin’ 
like a nigger, while you fellers have been havin’ a good 
time loafin’ round here. I tell you the thing’s about 
played.” 

“But you must go back until after the trial,” said 
Flynn. “If they miss you they will be sure to sus- 
pect. Did you bring the boy’s clothes? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Anything else ? ” 

“Yes, this ’ere,” said Blake, displaying the brace- 
let. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


101 


“Well, keep it. It will pay you well for all this 
work, I should think. But go at once, and be in bed 
at your usual time. Keep your mouth shut, and 
pretend to know nothing whatever about it, and the 
thing will work out all right.” 

The man muttered something to himself, but made 
no audible reply. 

By the way, do you think the boy will get back 
to the woods before night?” asked Flynn, as Perry 
started away. 

“ He can if he wants to,” was the answer. 

‘ ‘ Well, it doesn’t matter much. The road is lonely 
and there is not a house within a mile. It will be safe 
enough,” said Flynn. “ Be on the watch, and bring 
me word when you think there is anything I should 
know. Always come in the night, if possible, and 
be careful.” 

Blake returned as he was bidden, and was at the 
doctor’s house again before he was missed. 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE TRAMPS. 

In the meantime Harry had arrived at Calusa. He 
called at the watchmaker’s and presented his order, 
but there were still some slight repairs unfinished and 
he was forced to wait. It was sundown before he 
got the watch. It was a valuable gold one, and the 
watchmaker carefully inspected the signature to the 
order, comparing it with some other writing which 
he took from a drawer, before he gave it up, and 
even then he looked sharply at Harry as if he sus- 
pected all was not right. The boy observed all these 
motions, and, interpreting them aright, he blushed, 
half with anger, half with shame, at the suspicion 
they hinted. The man was apparently satisfied at 
last, and Harry left the shop. Twilight was coming 
rapidly on, and he had five miles to go over a some- 
what lonely road before he reached home. He 
mounted his horse and rode rapidly away, fearing 
that darkness would overtake him on the road. Nor 
were his fears ungrounded. It was dark before he 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


103 . 


had traversed half the distance. It was not danger 
that he dreaded, however, but the inconvenience of 
traveling in the dark. While entering a long, gloomy 
strip of woods, about three miles froml home, he 
thought he saw the shadow of a man flit across the 
road before him. Instinctively he drew the rein, but 
then, laughing at himself for his sudden fear, he con- 
tinued on his way. Just as he had reached the thick- 
est and darkest part of the wood three men sprang 
into the road at his side. One of themTgrasped the 
horse by the bit while the other two seized Harry 
and dragged him to the ground. Before he had time 
to collect his wits enough to cry out, he was securely 
bound and gagged. Then the men spoke for the first 
time. 

“Take the horse on to the first field and turn him 
in,” said one. “If he goes home without the boy 
they will begin the search for him at once.” 

“Why not tie the boy on the horse and lead him 
with us ? ” asked another. 

“ Don’t be a fool ! ” said the first speaker. “ We’d 
have to keep the road if we led the horse, and I’m 
not goin’ to risk meetin’ anybody. We must carry 
the kid across the fields to the big swamp.” 

One of the men took the horse and turned him 
into the nearest field, and on his return they seized 
Harry and carried him away through the woods. 


104 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


The boy tried to cry out, but he^as too securely 
gagged. An oval piece of wood had been forced into 
his mouth, distending his jaws in a*painful manner, 
and was tied by a cord running back of his head so 
tightly as to make his mouth bleed. The men took 
turns in carrying the boy. Sometimes one would 
throw him across his shoulder like a bag of grain and 
carry him in that painful position for a time, and some- 
times two of them would take him, one at his head 
and one at his feet. * Thus they went on across fields, 
over fences, through woods, for what appeared to 
Harry an age of agony. At last they entered a large 
wood, and pressing their way through the thick under- 
brush for a time, they came to the edge of a large 
swamp. This they entered, walking on fallen trees 
and projecting roots, until they reached the island 
already described. Harry, who luckily had the use 
of his eyes, as far as they could serve him in the 
darkness, now saw the light of a fire shining through 
the trees, and heard the sound of voices. In a few 
minutes his captors bore him to the light, where he 
beheld ten or fifteen tramps collected about the fire, 
making such a scene as that described in a preceding 
chapter. The tramps all ceased their occupation of 
cooking and eating when those who bore Harry ap- 
proached, and one of them came forward to meet 
them. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


105 


“ So,” he said.-^'you’ve caught the young imp ? ” 

“Yes,” repliW iJne of the new-comers. “ It was 
all cut and dried ?o our hand. Shorty told us he was 
to go to town, and Black Flynn sent us to nab him 
as he came back.” 

“ Why the d 1 didn’t you blindfold him before 

you brought him here ? ” 

“Didn’t think of it,” replied the man. ” But that 
makes no difference. He’ll not leave this camp till 
we do.” 

“Still you ought to have tied the young chap’s 
eyes,” replied the tramp. “Take the gag out of his 
mouth.” 

One of the men removed the gag. 

“ Now, you young rascal, what do you think of 
that ? ” asked the tramp, who was known among his 
fellows as “Limpy Jim,” and in whom Harry thought 
he recognized the actor of the wooden-leg farce he 
had seen played nearly a year before. 

“ I do not know what to think,” he replied, pain- 
fully, for his jaws had been distended so long that 
he could scarcely talk. “ What have I done that you 
should treat me in this way ? ” 

“What’ve you done?” said Jim. “I’ll tell you 
what you’ve done. You’ve tried to stretch two of 
our friends. That’s what you’ve done. But it’s all 


106 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


right now. They’ll get no chinning out of you at 
the trial now, don’t you forget.” 

Harry understood it all now. He had been kid 
napped to prevent his appearance at the trial, which 
was shortly to come on. Without his evidence the 
prisoners would go free. Why had he not thought 
of this in time, and been on his guard ? But it was 
too late now. 

‘‘Search him,” said Limpy Jim, who seemed to 
be a kind of leader among them. Busy bands soon 
emptied his pockets. 

“ Hello ! ” cried one, “ Here’s a ticker. Gold, too, 

by ! ” he continued, as he held up the watch to 

the light.” 

It was the doctor’s watch. In the excitement and 
pain consequent upon his capture and abduction, 
Harry had forgotten all about it. 

“Oh, sir,” he cried, “do not take that from me. 
It is not mine. It belongs to Doctor Blair. Keep 
me, sir, until after the trial if you wish, but send the 
doctor his watch. He’ll think I stole it and ran 
away.” And upon this view of the subject, which 
just that instant occurred to him, he burst into tears. 
The tramp laughed. 

“That’s just what we want,” he said. “Let the 
doctor think the young cub has sloped with his 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


107 


watch, and they’ll not look for him here, and they’ll 
not suspect us, neither.” 

“Will you not return it?” asked Harry. 

“ Not much. Do you think we’re all fools ? ” said 
Limpy Jim. 

“Oh, sir,” pleaded the boy, “do not ruin me. 
Doctor Blair has given me a home. He has treated 
me like his own son. He has promised to send me 
to school, and give me a chance to rise in the world. 
Do have pity on me, and do not blight all my pros- 
pects just as they were so bright.” 

The only reply he received was a loud taunting 
laugh in which all the tramps joined. When Harry 
found that his petition was received with jeers, his 
heart swelled with indignation, and, struggling to his 
feet as best he could in his pinioned condition, he 
raised his head, shook the tears from his eyes and 
looked proudly and defiantly at his tormenters. 

“You have the forms of men,” he cried, “and yet 
you are not men ; you have not the kindness and 
courtesy of brutes; you are a set of contemptible 
cowards. Twenty of you capturing and torturing 
one poor boy. Yet, I tell you what, boy as I am, I 
will be even with you yet. My whole heart was set 
on the bright career which this morning seemed to 
open before me, and now by your cruel act you have 
blighted it all. Do your worst, you cowardly dogs. 


108 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


but, mark my words, I’ll yet live to see some of you 
hanged.” 

During this tirade the tramps had gradually pressed 
about him, and Limpy Jim raised his arm to strike 
the boy to the earth. But the blow did' not fall. A 
voice behind them cried out sharply : 

“ Hold on ! Drop that ! ” and Black Flynn strode 
into the circle. The tramps fell back. 

“What does all this mean?” said Flynn, looking 
around upon the crowd. “I ordered you to capture 
this boy and keep him until after the trial, but I do 
not intend that he shall be abused. He has done 
you no harm.” 

“No harm! ” said he who was called Limpy Jim. 
“Haint he put two of our best men in limbo, and if 
he gets a chance won’t he stretch their necks?” 

“Well, keep him away from the trial, but don’t 
blame him. Let Sandy and Toney blame themselves. 
Why did they turn our fraternity into a nest of high- 
waymen and murderers? You all know that the 
shedding of blood is forbidden us. We live off of 
the country, for it is ours, but human life must be 
held sacred, except in self-defense. Give me that 
watch ! ” The tramp obeyed. 

“Now, boy. Twill keep this until after the trial; 
then, if you will do as I wish, you can have it to re- 
turn to the doctor.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


109 


“I will do* anything consistent with honor to get 
it back,” replied Harry, 

“ Well, we’ll talk of that another time,” said Flynn, 
Harry was now unbound, but closely watched. 
The tramps renewed their occupation of getting sup- 
per, and the boy beheld such a scene as has already 
been described,’ He came to the conclusion that the 
tramps were not such objects of pity as some people 
supposed. Few of the farmers in the vicinity lived 
as well as they did. Black Flynn brought Harry 
some slices of broiled pork and some bread and but- 
ter, but the boy could not eat. When their supper 
was finished the tramps began to enjoy themselves 
after their usual fashion. Stories were told and songs 
sung, all more or less of what might be called a 
“flash” order, until, at last, some one called for a 
song from Black Flynn, The*call was taken up and 
repeated by all the tramps, until Flynn yielded to 
their demand, and, without comment, sang in a clear, 
musical voice the following : 

SONG OF THE TRAMP, 

Oh ! jolly and free is the life of the tramp. 

As he roams over valley and hill; 

The sun is his fire and the moon is his lamp. 

And ’tis nature that settles the bill. 

And he drinks at the fountain and rill ; 

For he comes and he goes at his will. 

And under the hedges he hides from the damp. 

When the winds of the evening are chill. 


no 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


And when he grows hungry he’s only to call, 

And his food is prepared to his hand. 

The fields and the gardens, the orchards and all. 

Are awaiting his slightest demand ; 

For ’tis he that possesses the land. 

And his tenants obey his command ; 

And the fullness of summer, the richness of -fall, 

Drop into his suppliant hand. 

He lives at his ease, and he feasts Hke a lord. 

And never a cent does he pay. 

For fools will work on, and their labors afford 
The means for his pleasure and play. 

Then let them go toiling away. 

In the dust and the heat of the day — 

The tramp can lie down to his rest on the sward 
While the farmer grows weary and gray. 

Oh ! where is the use to toil on till the cramp 
Of old age have distorted the frame; 

Till death in his mercy just puffs out the lamp 
As he pities the wavering flame ? 

Then pride in its folly may blame. 

And slaves wear a blush at the shame; 

For me I will live, and I’ll die like a tramp, 

And be proud to acknowledge the name. 

After the applause following this song had died 
away the tramps disposed themselves, each after his 
fashion, for sleep. Black Flynn, however, still sat 
with Harry, a little way apart from the crowd. 

‘^What do you think of tramp life now? ” he said 
to the boy. “ Are they not well fed? Do they not 
live like kings? ” 

“They certainly appear to have plenty to eat,” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Ill 


replied Harry, “ and yet when they come begging for 
food they look so hungry and forlorn it is almost 
impossible to refuse them.” 

“A trick of the trade, my boy,” said Flynn. “All 
trades have their tricks. See the unctuous, oily 
tradesman, rubbing his hands, bowing and smiling 
to trap you with his wares. See the lordly banker 
with his look of mighty importance and dignity as if 
the weight of the financial world w’as on his shoul- 
ders and its wealth in his coffers. A trick, my boy, 
to cheat you of your confidence and rob you of your 
money. See the wily politician with his bland smile 
and hearty grasp of the hand, inquiring after your 
family, whom he would not know from the children 
of Israel, and pretending to interest himself in your 
welfare when, perhaps, he does not even know your 
occupation. A trick of his trade to gull the unwary 
and secure votes. And even the saintly priest puts 
on a heavenly smile to hide his sensual nature from 
the innocent lambs- of his flock whom he intends to 
make his prey. All, all tricks of trade, my boy.” 

“But this trade of yours is a terrible one,” said 
Harry, “judging from what I have already seen of it. 
It deals in blood.” 

“ No, no ! ” said Flynn quickly. “ That has noth- 
ing to do with it. There are not half the men who 
belong to the fraternity of tramps who know the ob- 
ject of our organization.” 


112 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Have you a regular organization ? ’’ asked Harry, 

“Yes; regularly organized and officered,” an- 
swered Flynn. 

“Are you its chief? ” 

“ No, only one of them. ” 

“Yet these men obey you as if they feared you?” 

“They dare not disobey. The whole thing is a 
mystery to them, yet they know that should they 
rebel against authority, it would not be a week before 
they would be arrested for their crimes, and end their 
lives in the penitentiary or on the scaffold.” 

“ But you spoke of the object of your association. 
I do not fully understand it. What is it? ” 

“That I can not reveal further than I have already 
done,” replied Flynn. “But when the proper time 
comes, when we are strong enough, then the world 
will know. This much I can tell you. It is not high- 
way robbery and murder.” 

“ Is it revolution ? ” 

“That is nearer it. But I can not tell you more 
until you determine to join us.” 

“That will never be,” said Harry firmly. 

“We will see,” replied Black Flynn. 

“ But if you do not countenance robbery and mur- 
der, why do you allow such men in your associa- 
tion ? ” asked Harry. 

“They will be of use when the time comes.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


113 


“What! to murder?” 

“ No, no! But I can not tell you more. See, they 
are looking this way. And now one word about 
yourself. If I will vouch for you to these men, will 
you give me your word that you will not- try to es- 
cape for three days?” 

“No, I will not,” replied Harry promptly. ‘‘I 
shall certainly escape if I can.” 

“Well, so be it,” answered Flynn. “ But let me 
tell you one thing, I have promised to release you at 
the end of that time and to return to you the doctor’s 
watch.” 

“Yes.” 

“ Well, if you escape I will keep the watch ; that’s 
all.” And he rose and walked away. 

Harry soon found that three of the tramps were to 
remain awake as a guard over him. If he had in- 
dulged any hope of escape during the night he gave 
it up. He lay down and tried to form his plans for 
future action, but his mind ran less upon his own sit- 
uation than upon the strange being into whose hands 
he had fallen. This man was certainly an anomaly. 
A tramp who taught philosophy ; a thief who talked 
of honesty ; a scholar who herded with the lowest 
and most ignorant class of humanity. The more he 
thought the firmer he became in his conclusion that 
the tramp was a bad, dangerous man, who had only 
8 


114 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


presented to him the less odious side of his character ; 
that his pretended friendship was for the purpose of 
winning his confidence in order to bind him to him- 
self by some act which would make him an outlaw. 
Why Flynn was so anxious to secure him as a fol- 
lower he could not fully understand. The reason as- 
signed on a previous occasion did not satisfy him ; but 
he would be on his guard and avoid all the traps that 
might be set for him. Firm in his purpose to resist 
all the threats, blandishments and temptations of his 
would-be associate he felt strong enough to defy him 
and his companions in vagrancy and crime. He fell 
asleep at last, reiterating to himself the resolution he 
had formed. But he was in the hands of a wily foe 
who was fully determined to bend him to his will. 
How he succeeded^ those who pursue this narrative 
will see. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE SEARCH FOR THE BOY. 

In the meantime, how was it at the doctor’s home ? 
Night came, and Harry was still absent. Dr. Blair 
sat down to read and await his return. Bed time 
came and no Harry. Mrs. Blair and Carrie retired, 
and the doctor read on and on, and waited. Ten 
o’clock! Eleven! Midnight! He threw down his 
book with a start, and went to the door to listen. 
No sound save the chirping of the crickets in the 
meadow, or the hooting of an owl in the distant 
wood, 

“Wife,” he called, “ I am uneasy about that boy. 
I must go and see what has happened.” 

Mrs. Blair tried to dissuade the doctor from his 
purpose, but his anxiety was too great to permit him 
to remain idle in this suspense, and, calling to Perry 
Blake, he bade him saddle a horse and bring it to the 
door. This the man did, grumbling at being dis- 
turbed, and muttering to himself as he saw the doc- 
tor ride away : 


116 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“It’ll not be long till I’ll stop all this vvorkin’ and 
slavin’ and gettin’ up in the night. I wish Black 
Flynn had to try it awhile hisself, and see how he’d 
like it I’ll not git into another sich a scrape soon, 
you bet.” 

So, grumbling, he ascended to his room, and, lis- 
tening from the window he heard the sound of the 
horse’s feet clattering far up the road, as the doctor 
rode away in the night. 

“He’ll not find the boy, that’s certain,” he said 
with a chuckle, as he crawled to bed. “ He’s at the 
camp long afore this. I wish I was there, too.” 

Dr. Blair rode on, stopping every now and then to 
listen ; but he heard no sound of hoofs, save those 
made by his own horse. He had ridden more than 
half way to town without making any discovery, and 
was debating in his mind whether he should proceed 
to Calusa or return home and wait till morning, when 
he heard the whinny of a horse at the road-side, and 
thought he recognized the sound. His horse evi- 
dently did recognize it, for he answered loudly and 
eagerly. The doctor rode to the fence and found on 
the inside of the field the horse that Harry had rid- 
den, saddled and bridled as if its rider had just dis- 
mounted. He was now thoroughly alarmed, and 
called loudly on the boy by name, but there was no 
answer, save the scream of a startled screech-owl 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


117 


from the wood behind him He rode the entire length 
of the fence, followed by the horse upon the inside, 
and found at the corner a place where the rails evi- 
dently had been thrown down and carelessly 
replaced. Here was where Harry’s horse had been 
turned into the field. The doctor dismounted to ex- 
amine the ground, but it was impossible to distin- 
guish tracks by the pale light of the stars, which had 
served him for his other discoveries. His first sus- 
picion was that Harry had absconded with the watch. 

“No,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “if he 
had intended to run away he would have ridden off 
on the horse. Even if he did not wish to steal the 
animal, he would have taken that opportunity to get 
as far away as possible while it was yet dark, and 
would have turned the horse loose in the morning. 
Some accident has befallen him. I will go on.” He 
remounted, and leaving the horse Harry had ridden 
still in the field, rode toward the town, looking care- 
fully in the road, as well as the darkness would per- 
mit, expecting every minute to find the boy lying 
helpless where he had been thrown. But he arrived 
at Calusa without making any further discoveries, and 
went directly to the watch-maker’s. Arousing this 
man, with some difficulty, he learned that Harry had 
been there and taken the watch away. 

“It was all right, wasn’t it?” asked the man anx- 
iously. 


118 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“Yes, yes,” replied Dr. Blair. “ I sent him for it, 
but he has not returned. I found the horse he rode, 
in a field about half way home, but have seen nothing 
of the boy.” 

“Are you sure he is honest?” asked the man. 

“ Sure? Yes. At least I believe so,” was the re- 
ply. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I didn’t know,” said the watch-maker. “I 
looked quite sharply at him, for I did not like to trust 
so valuable a watch to a stranger, and he blushed and 
looked queer, I thought, but I hope it’s all right.” 

“Yes, I hope so,” said the doctor, as he turned 
and rode toward home. 

Dr. Blair was in a study. At times he felt that he 
could risk his life on Harry’s honesty, and at others, 
doubts would steal into his mind in spite of himself. 
It was nearly morning when he reached home, no 
wiser as to the fate of the boy than when he set out. 
He did not go to bed. He told his wife of the dis- 
covery he had made, and expressed a determination 
to continue the search as soon as it was light enough 
to do so with certainty. 

Dr. Blair’s household was astir at dawn. Suspi- 
cion, having once gained a place in the doctor’s mind, 
kept growing until he began to pursuade himself that 
Harry had deceived him. His first act in the morn- 
ing was to visit the boy’s room. His next to 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


119 


look in the little closet where he kept his clothes. 
They were gone. The doctor’s suspicion had created 
doubts in the mind of Mrs. Blair, and she also began 
an investigation. She now remembered her careless- 
ness in leaving the bracelet upon the table. She had 
not thought of it the evening before, but now she en- 
tered the room with a trembling step, dreading to have 
her fears confirmed. It was gone. She sat down 
and, burying her face in her hands, she sobbed aloud. 
It was not the loss of the bauble. Willingly would 
she have sacrificed a hundred such to know that 
the boy, whom she had learned to love as a son, 
was innocent. But this confirmation of the dreadful 
suspicion almost broke her heart. “ Poor boy, poor 
boy!” she sobbed. “Why did we throw these 
temptations in his way?” Dr. Blair and Carrie en- 
tered the room at the same time. 

“Well?” said Mrs. Blair, looking up through her 
tears. 

“ His clothes are gone,” said the doctor. 

‘ ‘ And a valuable bracelet which I carelessly left 
lying on the table last evening is also gone,*’ said 
Mrs. Blair. 

“ He is a thief,” said the doctor, angrily. 

Carrie had been standing in the center of the room 
gazing from one to the other of her parents with a 
frightened look. But when the doctor uttered the 


120 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


last words her eyes blazed and her cheeks flushed 
with indignation. 

“He is not a thief, ” she cried. “He is true as 
steel ! ” And she flashed a look of defiance about 
her like a beautiful little tigress at bay. 

Dr. Blair and his wife looked at her with astonish- 
ment. It was not so much the words as the manner 
of the girl which struck them with sudden wonder. 
Her manner had always been mild and her words 
gentle ; but now she seemed half a head taller in her 
attitude of defiance, her eyes flashing with anger, her 
head thrown forward and her neck curved, as she 
stood like a beautiful snake ready to strike. 

Mrs. Blair buried her face in her hands again, and 
the doctor turned away with a sigh. It was to him 
a revelation — terrible now that the boy he had loved 
and trusted had so cruelly deceived him. Then in- 
dignation overcame his grief, and, turning to his 
daughter, he said : 

“Carrie, you forget yourself. You must look at 
this thing in its true light. We have all acted very 
foolishly. We took this boy into our home, know- 
ing nothing of his antecedents further than he saw fit 
to reveal them to us. He came to us a tramp, and 
we trusted him like a son and brother. Now, when 
it is too late, we see the result of our mistaken char- 
ity. A temptation, terrible no doubt to him, has 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


121 


overcome his new-born resolutions of honesty — for I 
can not doubt that he was at times sincere — and he 
has gone back to his old occupation, betraying our 
confidence and wounding our hearts. However much 
it may give us pain, Carrie, we must not close our 
eyes to the truth. He is a thief.” ' 

“He is not,” cried Carrie. “If there is a thief 
about this house, there he goes, sneaking away from 
that door, where he has been listening to us.” 

Dr. Blair turned quickly, and caught a glimpse of 
Perry Blake as he disappeared in the hall. 

“ I tell you if the bracelet is stolen he is the thief,” 
she continued, fiercely. 

“But the watch? His clothes?” said the doctor. 

“ I don’t care,” cried the girl. “ Poor Harry is not 
a thief, and some day you will be sorry for turning 
against him at the first sign of suspicion. If you 
want to find the thief, watch Perry Blake.” 

“But, Carrie, Perry Blake couldn’t take the 
watch,” said the doctor. 

The girl was silent. 

“Come, Carrie,” said Mrs. Blair, now advancing 
to the side of her daughter. “ Let us reserve our 
opinion until this thing is investigated farther. Time 
will tell who is right. God grant that he be, as you 
say, true as steel.” She put her arm tenderly about 
the waist of her child, and led her sobbing from the 


room. 


122 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


After a hurried breakfast, at which Carrie did not 
appear, Dr. Blair again set off for town. This time 
he rode rapidly at once to the field in which he had 
found the horse. From this point he began a careful 
examination. Luckily no vehicle had yet passed to 
obliterate any tracks that might have been left in the 
dust. On reach^g the gap in the fence, he found the 
tracks of a man leaving the road and returning to it 
again. Whoever had turned the horse into the field 
it was evidently not Harry, for the tracks were much 
larger than his. From here he traced the man back- 
wards to the center of the wood, where he saw un- 
mistakable signs of a struggle, and the print where 
some one had lain in the dust. These marks, it is 
true, were partially obliterated by the tracks of his 
own horse the night before, yet enough remained to 
convince him that some one had fallen in the road at 
this point. He was filled with anxiety for the boy, 
and forgetting his suspicions, he rode at a gallop 
toward the town. 

His first call here was made on Mr. Rickard, the 
constable, to whom he stated the case and related his 
discoveries. Mr. Rickard was somewhat of a detect- 
ive in his way, and as soon as he learned the state of 
things he cried : 

“ I see it all. It’s as plain as the nose on a man’s 
face.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


123 


‘ ‘ Well, what do you make of it ? ” asked the doctor. 

“ They have carried him away to prevent him from 
appearing at the trial.” 

‘ ‘ Carried him away ? Who ? ” 

” Why, the tramps,” replied the constable. “ My 
dear sir, I have had dealings enough with that gentry 
to know that they hang together like other thieves. 
You will find in the end that this is the true state of 
the case.” 

“Well, what is to be done?” asked the doctor. 

” That I can not tell until I have looked over the 
ground,” answered the constable. I will be ready 
in twenty minutes.” 

In less than half an hour the men were on the 
road. When they reached the scene of the struggle, 
the constable dismounted and examined the ground. 
He traced the man to where the horse had been 
turned into the field and back again, pointed out to 
the doctor where Harry’s captors had entered the 
wood, and, by careful watching, was enabled to trace 
the tracks for a little distance, but the ground was 
dry and hard, and the marks soon became indistinct, 
and they were compelled to give up the search. 

“I will go home with you,” said Mr. Rickard, 
“and perhaps we can find some clue there.” 

On the way he questioned Dr. Blair about the in- 
mates of his house. 


124 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Besides my own family, there are three inmates,” 
said the doctor, “or, rather, there were three,” he 
added, ‘ ‘ before the disappearance of this boy. There 
now remain a servant girl and a man named Perry 
Blake, who assists on the farm,” 

“ Who is this Perry Blake ? ” 

“ I know nothing of him, except that he came to 
me for work, and as I happened to need help at the 
time, I engaged him.” 

“ Does he have access to the room from which the 
bracelet was taken ? ” 

” He could enter it if he wished.” 

“ Could he enter the boy’s room ? ” 

“He could.” 

” Was he at home last night? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Had he any opportunity to be absent for a time 
without your knowing it? ” 

“ I think not for any great length of time.” 

“Still he might have had a confederate.” 

“True ; I had not thought of that.” 

“ Well, I must see this man.” 

‘ ‘ Nothing will be easier, ” replied the doctor. “ Re- 
main at my house for dinner. He will doubtless be 
at the table, and you ran observe him at your leis- 
ure.” 

When they arrived at the doctor’s house Perry 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


125 


Blake was at work in the fields. Mr, Rickard exam- 
ined the premises and carefully inspected Blake’s 
room, but found nothing suspicious. 

“ I didn’t expect it. If he has taken the bracelet 
he has hidden it securely before this time,” he said, 
as he returned to the room where Mrs. Blair and 
Carrie were sitting. 

“You talk as if you thought he was the guilty 
party,” said the doctor. 

“Well, I do think so,” said Mr, Rickard bluntly. 

Mrs. Blair looked startled, while Carrie’s face fairly 
blazed with triumphant delight, and she flashed upon 
him a look full of gratitude. 

“ But how do you account for the boy’s clothes be- 
ing missing?” asked the doctor. 

“The easiest thing in the world,” said Mr. Rickard. 
“That is just the very thing they would do. Don’t 
you see that if the clothes are missing, and he is miss- 
ing, without further light on the affair, the natural in- 
ference would be that they disappeared together ? I 
tell you I see it all. It is a very commonplace plot. 
Now let us see how this thing stands. Here is a boy, 
who must be got rid of before the trial comes on. 
The parties concerned contrive to get a man whom 
they control introduced here to give them informa^ 
tion of the boy’s coming and going. This journey to 
Calusa is made known to his confederates, and the 


126 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


plot is hastily laid. The boy’s clothing is taken to 
lead you to think that he has run away. He is way- 
laid upon the road and carried off to some place of 
concealment, and your watch goes with him, to still 
further increase your suspicion. Do you see it now ? ” 

“ It looks reasonable,” said the doctor. “ But the 
bracelet? ” 

“That, no doubt, was an after-thought,” said the 
constable. ” The man who stole the clothes saw the 
bracelet as he passed the open door, and appropriated 
it on his own account.” 

“But why does he still remain here if he is the 
thief, as you suspect? ” 

“To turn suspicion upon the boy. Suppose that 
this man had also disappeared ? Would not your sus- 
picions naturally have fallen upon him?” 

“True!” replied the doctor. “You have con- 
vinced me. This man shall be arrested at once.” 

“ Not so fast,” answered the constable. “ Remem- 
ber you have no positive evidence yet. Besides, if 
you wish to find the boy you must keep the run of 
this man. On second thought, I will not remain to 
dinner. It will be best for him not to see me. You 
must hire another hand for a day or two. I will re- 
turn at once and send you the man you want. Perry 
Blake does not know him. He is my wife’s brother, 
who is visiting us for a few days. He is a detective 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


127 


policeman, and well up to this kind of thing, and will 
follow this man if he attempts to communicate with 
his confederates, which he will doubtless do. Find 
him something to do to cover suspicion — something 
not too hard, for Jack is not partial to hard work — 
and let him occupy the boy’s room. If anything is 
done it must be done at once, for the day after to- 
morrow is the trial.”. 

“Well, Mr. Rickard, I will leave the matter in 
your hands, and do as you wish,” said Dr. Blair. 
“A great weight has been removed from my mind 
since I have heard your solution of this thing. I was 
loth to believe that the boy, whom I loved and 
trusted, could so cruelly betray my confidence, and I 
have no doubt these ladies are very grateful to you.’^ 

Mrs. Blair pressed the constable’s hand kindly, and 
Carrie beamed on him a look of gratitude so joyful 
and bright that he gazed upon her with wonder and 
admiration, and thought to himself as he took his de- 
parture: “That girl has more than a sister’s inter- 
est in this affair, or I am much mistaken.” 

Shortly after Dr. Blair and his wife heard Carrie at 
the piano, singing, to a kind of triumphant melody, 
the following 

SONG. 

The diamond may sparkle, the ruby may glow. 

The sapphire may burn and the emerald shine; 

Their glitter is cold as the sunlight on snow, 

For they bear in them ever the chill of the mine. 


128 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


But fair is the spirit whose radiance shines 
To light up the eye as the morn on the dew; 

And richer than jewels that hide in the mines, 

The wealth of a heart that is honest and true. 

Oh ! ships never bore, on the wings of the wind, 

A treasure more precious from over the waves ; 

And madrepores, circling the shores of the Ind, 

Ne’er hide such a jewel away in their caves. 

Then welcome the world to its silver and gold. 

Its jewels and gems; I will choose for my due 

What wealth never bought and what greed never sold — 
The love of a heart that is honest and true. 

That evening a new farm hand was domiciled in the 
doctor’s house, to the surprise of Mr. Gwin and the 
chagrin and discomfort of Perry Blake, who, however, 
was entirely unsuspicious of the cause. 

Night came and the doctor’s family retired to rest. 
The new man, who had given the name of Brown, 
was shown to Harry’s room. Perry Blake had al- 
ready gone to bed. Brown closed his door and 
turned the key loudly in the lock, and then turned 
it softly back again. He then removed his heavy 
cowhide boots and drew from under the bed, where 
they had been previously placed, a pair of rubber- 
soled shoes, which he put on, and threw him- 
self upon the bed to await the progress of events. 
Nothing, however, transpired, and toward morning 
he gave up his watching and went to sleep. The 
next day he labored in the field with Blake and tried 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


129 


to ingratiate himself into his confidence, but the lat- 
ter was morose and taciturn, and the detective learned 
nothing. The next night came, the last before the 
trial. Brown repeated his formula of the night be- 
fore, but with better success. About ten o’clock he 
heard Blake moving softly about in his room. Pres- 
entl;^ he opened his door and passed through the hall 
and down the stairs. The detective stole softly after 
him. Blake passed through the kitchen, the door of 
which he unlocked from the inside, and passed out. 
The detective waited a moment, and then followed. 
The tramp had disappeared, but, listening intently, he 
heard his steps down the lane and stole after him, 
keeping in the shadow of the fence. Thus the two 
continued down the lane, across the fields, and 
through the woods, Blake suspecting nothing, and 
scarcely ever looking back, and Brown walking 
silently behind, just close enough to keep him in 
sight through the gloom of the night. The tramp 
took the route over which the reader has followed 
him before, and, after what appeared to his pursuer 
a weary time, they arrived at the swamp. The 
glimmer of a fire could be distinctly seen' upon the 
tree tops far toward the heart of the swamp, and the 
detective did not doubt that he had discovered the 
rendezvous of the tramps. He marked the spot at 
which Blake disappeared, but did not attempt to fol- 
9 


130 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


low him. He hid and waited, for he did not duobt 
that the tramp would return in a short time. Nor 
was he mistaken. After half an hour’s waiting, dur- 
ing which he could occasionally catch the sound of 
voices from the distance, Blake returned and walked 
rapidly back toward the doctor’s house. Brown, 
however, did not follow him. As soon as Blake was 
entirely out of sight and hearing the detective en- 
tered the swamp, found the bridge of trees, and 
crossed to the island. Pausing to reconnoitre, he saw 
before him the camp of the tramps. Fires were burn- 
ing, or rather smoking, in all directions, arranged ev- 
idently to keep off the insects, which infested the 
swamp in myriads. Occasionally one of these fires 
would burst into a flame and light up the scene, and 
at such times he saw the tramps lying asleep in 
groups or singly, while two or three, evidently 
guards, were moving about or smothering out the 
blazing fires with damp wood and decayed leaves. 
He saw also the object of his search — the boy, whom, 
from the descripton'he had received, he recognized 
as Harry Lawson, lying upon the ground, while at 
his side sat a tramp keeping guard over the prisoner. 
This was all he desired to know at this time. Steal- 
ing quietly back over the logs, he walked rapidly 
toward Dr. Blair’s. On arriving at the kitchen door 
he found it locked. Blake had fastened it from the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


131 


inside as he had found it. This was something he 
had not calculated on, and for a moment he was non- 
plussed. He was quick-witted, however, and decided 
in a moment what to do. Going to the front door, 
he knocked loudly for admittance. Dr. Blair an- 
swered the summons from his window, asking what 
was wanted. 

“I want you to see a sick man,” answered Brown 
in a loud tone, disguising his voice ; then, in a whis- 
per, just loud enough to reach the doctor’s ears: 
“Comedown. It’s I — Brown.” 

“I will be down in a moment,” said the doctor 
— loudly, for he understood that Brown had an object 
in deceiving some one, although he could only sus- 
pect whom. 

When he came to the door the detective hurriedly 
related his discoveries. 

“ Well, what is to be done? ” asked the doctor in a 
low tone. 

“One of us must proceed at once to the village 
near here and procure a warrant and a constable, and 
arrest these men and release the boy. Is there not a 
justice at 'the village ? ” 

“There is,” replied the doctor, “ and a constable, 
too.” 

“ Well, it will be best for you to go, since you are 
acquainted. It will save time. Procure your war- 


132 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


rant and arrest this Perry Blake at once. We can 
then proceed to their camp. Let there be plenty of 
help. We may need it. I will stay here and watch 
lest our game take the hint and give us the slip.” 

Dr. Blair proceeded on his mission to the village, 
and Brown entered the house by the front door and 
passed to his room, the door of which he found partly 
open. 

“ Hello ! What does this mean ? ” he thought. 
“ I am sure I closed this door when I left the room.” 

Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and 
he stepped lightly to Blake’s door. That, too, was 
open, and the room empty. He ran quickly down 
stairs to the kitchen door. It stood ajar. The bird 
had flown. 

“Hang the luck,” he muttered, “he is smarter 
than I gave him credit for. He has overheard our 
conversation, and has gone to warn his confederates. 
Well, it’s no use to follow him now. I could never 
overtake him. The only thing is to wait until the 
constable and posse arrive. I guess I’ve made a mess 
of this thing after all. I hope they won’t find it out 
at headquarters, or I’d never hear the last of it. Out- 
witted by a tramp. Ugh ! ” 

It was two hours before Dr. Blair returned with 
the constable and six men. He was much chagrined 
to learn of the escape of Blake, for now the tramps 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


133 


had doubtless left the camp and taken the boy with 
them. Such, in fact, proved to be the case, for on ar- 
riving at the island they found it deserted, and noth- 
ing but the smoldering fires remained to show that 
they had congregated there. The only thing to be 
done now was to wait for daylight, which by this time 
was slowly breaking, and then to scour the country 
in pursuit of the fugitives. 






CHAPTER XI. 

THE SENTENCE. 

The trial came on, and the two tramps were ar- 
raigned and plead not guilty. One important witness 
was absent. An attempt was made by the prosecu- 
tion to have the trial postponed ; but as the detective 
was absent, and Dr. Blair knew nothing of his own 
knowledge concerning Harry’s whereabouts, the de- 
fense set up the plea that the boy had absconded of 
his own accord, and they even attempted to prove by 
the doctor’s own evidence that the missing witness 
had stolen the watch and bracelet. The motion to 
postpone was overruled and the trial proceeded. The 
evidence for the prosecution was the same as that given 
before the justice, with the very important omission of 
Harry’s testimony. In behalf of the defense witnesses 
were brought forward to prove that on the night of the 
murder the accused were in quite a different part of 
the country, and one witness swore that he was with 
the prisoners during the whole of the night on which 
the old farmer met his death. An attempt on the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


135 


part of the prosecution to impeach the evidence of 
these witnesses failed, notwithstanding it was the gen- 
eral conviction among the audience that they were 
perjuring themselves, and everything appeared to 
favor the escape of the tramps. As the trial passed 
on, and Harry did not appear, Sandy and Toney be- 
came defiant and triumphant, and glanced less fre- 
quently at the door. The prosecution saw that the 
case was lost, unless their principal witness could be 
produced. Every allowable means was resorted to 
to delay the trial. There was one ray of hope. The 
detective was still absent, as was also Constable Rick- 
ard. They were both resolute men, and their pride — . 
especially that of the detective — was piqued, and 
they had expressed a determination to continue the 
search until Harry was found. 

But at length it became impossible to longer delay 
the proceedings, and the prosecutor arose to close 
the case. At this moment a commotion at the door 
arrested his words, and, during the pause, Mr. Rick- 
ard entered the room. He walked directly to the 
prosecutor, and whispered to him for a moment, .and 
then the lawyer’s countenance brightened, and a smile 
of triumph played about his lips as he said, in loud, 
ringing tones; “ Let Harry Lawson be called.” 

At the announcement of this name the prisoners 
turned pale, and shrank back with gestures of despair, 
and their witnesses started for the door. 


136 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“Your honor, I demand the arrest of those men,” 
said the lawyer. 

“On what charge, Mr. Wilson?” asked the judge. 

“On the charge of perjury,” was the reply. “Of 
swearing to a falsehood which they would not have 
dared to utter if they had known that Harry Lawson 
could be produced in this court.” 

One of the witnesses managed to escape through 
the crowd, but two of them were arrested before they 
reached the door. Then Harry made his appearance, 
accompanied by the detective. Dr. Blair wished to 
meet the boy to tell him how glad he was to receive 
him back again, but could not do so without pressing 
his way through the crowd, and so he postponed his 
greetings until after the trial should be over. Once 
or twice the boy caught the doctor’s eye, and he im- 
agined that it dwelt kindly upon him, but they did 
not speak. If they could have met then ; if the doc- 
tor could have clasped the hand of the boy, and given 
words to the feelings of his heart, Harry would have 
been satisfied that he still held his place in the esteem 
of his friend, and much of the misery he was destined 
to encounter would have been avoided. As the 
reader has already discovered, the boy was intensely 
sensitive, and he imagined that the doctor was trying 
to avoid him. He did not know of the suspicious cir- 
cumstances which surrounded his disappearance, but 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


137 


he had lost the doctor’s watch, and he blamed him- 
self for it, even while unable to see how he could 
have avoided it, and he said to himself: “He sus- 
pects me. He will never give me his confidence 
again.” 

When order was restored — for all had been confu- 
sion since the entrance of Harry — the trial proceeded 
with a full tide against the tramps, who, recognizing 
the fact that their cause was hopeless, sat, morose 
and sullen, to the end. In the evidence adduced by 
the new witnesses, it came out that Mr. Brown, the 
detective, accompanied by the constable and posse 
from the village, had pursued the tramps across the 
country, and had overtaken them about ten miles 
from their rendezvous. As soon as the fugitives 
found themselves in danger of capture they had left 
the boy and scattered, thus making their escape. 
The detective, knowing the necessity of Harry’s early 
appearance at the trial, had not pursued them fur- 
ther, but, leaving the village constable and his as- 
sistants to continue the chase, had brought the boy 
at once to Calusa. Harry’s evidence was clear and 
conclusive. The attorneys for the defense attempted 
to break its force by claiming that Harry was in col- 
lusion with the tramps in their depredations ; that he 
was, in fact, one of their number, and had himself 
stolen the watch and bracelet, and that it was not his 


138 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


intention to return to the trial at all, and he only came 
when overtaken by the officers of the law. This ar- 
gument had no effect upon either judge or jury, but 
the circumstances, as brought forward with all the 
eloquence and sophistry of a skilled attorney, ap- 
peared, to poor Harry, to wear such an air of proba- 
bility that he could not help thinking: “The doctor 
believes me guilty. He will never forgive me.” 

But the trial came to a close, and the jury returned 
a verdict of murder in the first degree, and the pris- 
oners were sentenced to be hung in the following Oc- 
tober. 

After the trial was over Dr. Blair looked for Harry 
but he was nowhere to be seen. He made inquiries 
of every one who would be at all likely to give him 
information of the boy’s whereabouts, but no one 
knew what had become of him. The detective and 
Mr. Rickard were consulted, but they could only sug- 
gest that Harry had probably gone to the doctor’s 
home alone. Dr. Blair tried to accept this solution of 
the mystery, but it was with an uneasy mind that he 
rode home. As he approached the house he saw 
Mrs. Blair and his daughter standing at the door, 
awaiting his coming. They knew from the neighbors 
that the boy had been rescued from the tramps, and 
the first question, uttered in concert, was, “ Where is 
Harry?” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


13i> 

“ Has he not returned ? ” asked the doctor. 

“No. Where did you leave him?’’ asked Mrs. 
Blair. 

“ I did not leave him,’’ answered the doctor. He 
left me. He was separated from me by the crowd, 
and when the trial was over I looked for him, but he 
had disappeared. I do not know what to think.’’ 

“He may be home shortly,’’ said Mrs. Blair. 
“You may have missed him in the crowd, and he will 
be compelled to walk home, unless he falls in with 
some neighbor driving this way. 

“ It may be as you think,’’ was the answer; yet I 
can scarcely think so, for I remained at Calusa until 
all the people had dispersed, and I made inquiries of 
every one who would be likely to know him, but no 
one had seen him after he left the court room. I fear 
there is something wrong.’’ 

The evening passed on ; night came; but Harry did 
not appear. Dr. Blair and his wife were distressed, 
and Carrie wept with mingled feelings of disappoint- 
ment and fear. 

“There is something very mysterious in this,’’ at 
length said the doctor. “It is not at all probable 
that the tramps would kidnap him again. Even if it 
were possible to do so, in the heart of the town, in 
the midst of the people, they could now have no 
motive for such an act except revenge, and I scarcely 


140 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


think they care enough for their comrades to risk so 
much simply to avenge them. Can it be possible 
that our first fears were correct, and that he is a ras- 
cal.” 

“I can not believe that,” said Mrs. Blair. “All 
the circumstances which at first led us to suspect him 
have been explained, and there can be no doubt of 
his honesty. There is, as you say, something wrong, 
but I can not think the boy is to blame.” 

“Well,” said the doctor, “there is no use waiting 
longer for him to-night. He may return in the 
morning. Let us hope he will.” 

Dr. Blair retired from the room, but his wife re- 
mained with her daughter, who sat with her head 
bowed in her hands. Mrs. Blair looked yearningly 
toward her, and sighed almost unconsciously. Carrie 
heard the sound, and raising her eyes they met those 
of her mother, and interpreting that glance aright, 
she rose and approached, and, kneeling at her moth- 
er’s feet, she buried her head in her lap and sobbed 
aloud. Mrs. Blair laid her hand caressingly upon the 
bowed head, and her tears fell upon the sunny tresses 
of her child. 

“Oh, mamma! Have they murdered him?” sob- 
bed Carrie. 

“No, no, my c^hild,” said the mother. “ I can not 
think that. Let iis hope that all will yet be well.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


141 


But where was Harry Lawson all this time ? Dur- 
ing the commotion caused by taking the condemned 
men from the court room he was separated from Dr. 
Blair, and borne with the crowd through the door. 
He did not try to re-enter the room, but loitered 
about, awaiting the appearance of the doctor. As he 
was standing somewhat apart from the crowd a boy 
approached him, and, handing him a piece of paper, 
said: “ A note from Dr. Blair.” 

Harry opened the folded paper, and a bank bill fell 
from it and fluttered to the ground. He picked it up 
mechanically, and saw that it was a ten dollar bill. 
Then he turned to the note and read : 

Harry Lawson: — Under the circumstances I think it best that 
you should not return to my house. We all regret very much the 
turn things have taken, but I hope your own good sense will tell 
you that, after what has happened, you had better seek another 
home. I enclose you ten dollars to assist you for the present. 
Good-bye, ' Henry Blair. 

At first Harry could not believe the evidence of his 
senses. He read the note again. He did not doubt 
that it was the writing of Dr. Blair, for, although he 
was not very familiar with his signature, he thought 
he could recognize some peculiarities he had noticed 
on a former occasion when he carried a note from the 
doctor to the silversmith. His first impulse was to 
seek the doctor and demand an explanation. 

“No,” he said to himself, on second thought, “he 


142 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. • 


has taken this way to get rid of me without an inter- 
view, and I will go. He believes me to be a thief. 
And Mrs. Blair — Carrie — do they, too, believe this. 
No ! I am sure that — let the others think as they 
may — Carrie Blair will never believe that I could fall 
so low. Yet, for her own sake, I must not see her, 
but must leave without one word of explanation. 
This is the work of that accursed tramp, and I am 
again an outcast, with no roof to shelter my head.” 

Here his eyes fell upon the money. 

“Does he think to heal my wounded heart with 
such as this?” he cried, contemptuously. “I will 
not take it. I will spurn his gift as he has spurned 
me, and I will go out from his home as I entered it, 
without a cent.” 

He threw down the money, and ground it into the 
earth with his heel. Then raising his head, and shak- 
ing himself like a wrestler preparing for the struggle, 
he walked away, looking neither to the right nor to 
the left. 


CHAPTER XII. 


IN SEARCH OF THE RUNAWAY. 

One evening, shortly after the scene described in 
the last chapter, Mrs. Shannon sat on the porch in 
front of the old farm-house, scolding the girl, whom 
she had at last allowed her husband to hire. Since 
Harry’s departure things had gone all wrong, as it 
seemed, John Shannon had attempted to do the work 
of the farm alone, but he missed the ready hand and 
cheerful help of the boy, and it was a heavy task. 
Then, just as he was busiest with his spring work, he 
was taken sick. A farm hand was hired, but he did 
not remain long. One evening he called for his wages 
and departed, assigning no reason for his conduct. 
John Shannon shook his head and sighed, and the 
man told a neighbor that he “ would rather live with 
a hyena than with Mrs. Shannon.” When the farmer 
recovered so as to get about his fields again he found 
them overgrown with weeds and the crops ruined. 
He often thought of the wanderer, and would wonder 
where he was and how he got on. Mrs. Shannon, 


144 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


since Harry’s departure, had waged her war against 
the newspapers so successfully that they had been 
abolished — at her house at least — and no news came 
to the farm house of the exciting scenes among which 
his life had been passed since he left its roof. 

The woman was in the midst of a most vigorous 
and vociferous lecture on thrift and cleanliness, de- 
livered for the benefit of the hired girl, when the flow 
of her eloquence was interrupted by the slamming of 
the gate in front of the house, and, looking that way, 
she saw a portly-looking stranger approaching the 
porch on which she sat. She smoothed out her apron 
and shut her mouth like a steel trap. The stranger 
drew near, and making a courtly bow, asked : 

“ Does John Shannon live here?” 

“ He does! ” snapped the woman. 

“ Is he at home ? ” 

” Yes.” 

“Can I see him?” said the stranger, beginning to 
lose some of his suavity of manner. 

“ He is at the barn, I reckon,” was the reply. 

The stranger turned without a word and walked 
toward the barn. Here he found the farmer and in- 
troduced himself as Charles Conover, from New York. 
John Shannon bowed, and waited for the stranger to 
proceed. The latter seated himself upon an up- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


145 


turned wagon-bed, and John Shannon sat down by 
his side. 

“About eleven or twelve years ago,” said the 
stranger, “you took a boy by the name of Harry 
Lawson to raise,’’ 

“Yes,” replied the farmer. “He was one of a 
number of boys brought west by a benevolent society 
and given out to those who would adopt them.” 

“ Exactly,” said Mr. Conover. “ Does he still re- 
side with you ? ” 

“No.” 

The stranger started. 

“ He is not dead ? ” 

“No,” replied the farmer. “ He ran away about 
a year ago, and I have heard nothing from him 
since.” 

“ Have you made no effort to find him.” 

“I have not. It would have been of no use, even 
if I had had the means to pursue him.” 

“What induced him to run away?” 

John Shannon sighed, and involuntarily glanced 
toward the house. 

“Ah ! ” said the stranger. He needed no further 
explanation, even with his short acquaintance with 
Mrs. Shannon’s tongue. 

“And you have no idea where he is now?” 

“None whatever,” was the reply, 
lo 


146 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“You wonder, perhaps, why I should ask these 
questions,” said the stranger, or Mr. Conover, as he 
called himself. “ I will tell you. He is my only 
sister’s child. Something over twelve years ago I 
left New York to take charge in Calcutta of the affairs 
of the firm with which I had been connected as book- 
keeper. I left my sister a happy wife and mother, 
with a comfortable home, and every prospect of hap- 
piness before her. I wrote several letters during my 
absence, but received no answer, and knew’ nothing 
of her until my return, about a year ago. I went at 
once to the neighborhood where I had left her, but 
they told me there that her husband had died years 
ago, and that she had moved away, no one knew 
whither. I advertised for her, but could hear noth- 
ing of her whereabouts, and I had about abandoned 
the search, when, a few days ago, a friend suggested 
to me to visit the charitable society of which you 
spoke. I did so, and on examining the records I 
learned that a boy named Harry Lawson, the name 
of both my sister’s husband and her child, had been 
sent West and bound to a farmer in Indiana, named 
John Shannon. I am here now in search of that boy. 
I am alone in the world, and he is my heir, for my 
residence in the Indies has not been unproductive of 
pecuniary benefits. C^ you think of no clew, no 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


147 

thread, be it ever so slender, that I can follow ? Did 
he leave no hint of his destination ? ” 

None.” 

” Did he leave no word ?” 

“ He left a letter.” 

” Have you that letter? ” 

“ It is at the house.” 

'' I must see it,” said Mr. Conover. ” It may give 
me some clue to the probable direction he has taken.” 

“Come, then,” said John Shannon, and he led the 
way to the house. 

It was now dark, and Mr. Conover was shown into 
the family sitting-room, where a lamp was burning. 
John Shannon introduced the stranger to his wife, and 
briefly informed her of his business. Mrs. Shannon, 
to do her justice, appeared affected when Harry’s 
name was mentioned, and treated the stranger with 
more consideration than, judging from his first meet- 
ing with her, he was led to expect. The letter writ- 
ten by Harry was in her possession, and she produced 
it from the little drawer where she had carefully 
placed it, and gave it into Mr. Conover’s hand. 
The latter read it over twice. Then he glanced at 
Mrs. Shannon with a look which she evidently inter- 
preted aright, for her face flushed, and her eyes fell. 

“I can find nothing in this to guide me,” he said. 

“ I did not think you woilid,” replied the farmer. 


148 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Mr. Conover asked many questions about Harry, 
his habits, the educational advantages he had enjoyed, 
etc. The farmer praised him highly, and the tears 
filled his eyes as he talked of the kind and gentle dis- 
position of the boy, and the readiness and care with 
which he had always performed his work. Mrs. 
Shannon fought bravely against the feelings that filled 
her heart in spite of herself, but they conquered at 
last, as her husband dwelt lovingly upon the noble 
traits of the boy, and she covered her face with her 
apron and sobbed aloud. John Shannon went to her 
side, and exclaimed : There, mother ! there now ! ” 

and the hired girl stared at her with eyes as big as 
saucers. The stranger ceased questioning at length, 
and drawing from his pocket a paper which he had 
purchased on the train, began to read. There ‘was 
silence for a time. Then suddenly Mr. Conover 
startled them all by exclaiming: 

“Ah!" 

All eyes were turned toward him, but he read on, 
not with the listless air with which he had begun, but 
with every appearance, in position and feature, of in- 
tense interest. At length he said : ‘ ‘ Listen to this. " 

Then he read aloud : 

THE MURDER TRIAL AT CALUSA. 

Yesterday the trial of San^ Hines and Toney Bazin, for the 
murder of Mr. Cartwright, came on. At first it appeared as if the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


149 


villains would go free ; but before the close of the trial Harry Law- 
son, the boy who has been missing for several days, made his ap- 
pearance, and on his testimony they were convicted and sentenced 
to be hung on the I2th of October. The boy stated that he had 
been kidnapped by the confederates of the murderers to prevent 
his appearance at the trial, but was finally rescued from their 
clutches by the united efforts of constable Rickard and Mr. Brown, 
a detective policeman. His evidence was clear and conclusive, and 
the jury rendered their verdict without leaving the room. Since 
writing the above it is rumored that the boy, Harry Lawson, who 
has been for a year residing with Mr. Blair, a physician who re- 
sides near the village of Flavel, has again disappeared, and no 
trace of him can be found. Dr. Blair is very anxious about him, 
and fears that he has again fallen into the hands of the tramps. 

“ Where is this town of Calusa?” asked Mr. Con- 
over, after a moment’s silence. 

“It is about thirty miles east of this,” replied the 
farmer. 

“Then I passed through it yesterday? ” 

“Yes, I suppose you did.” 

“ Well, I will return there in the morning. This 
is a clue at last, although it appears to be lost as soon 
as found.” 

The next day Mr. Conover stopped at Calusa, and 
was driven to Dr. Blair’s home. Here he was re- 
ceived with every kindness, and the doctor related to 
him all the incidents that had transpired since his ac- 
quaintance with Harry on the night of the murder. 
The doctor’s family were, of course, much surprised 
to learn that the poor boy they had taken from 
the society of the tramps was a nephew and heir to a 


150 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


man of wealth, and had before him a bright and pros- 
perous career. But mingled with their joy at his 
good fortune was the grief caused by the mystery 
which surrounded his fate. Dr. Blair could give Mr. 
Conover no information to guide him in his search. 

‘^He is doubtless traveling on foot wherever he is,” 
he said, “ for I do not think he had any money. I 
have made every inquiry possible since his disappear- 
ance, but have learned nothing. I will join you in 
your endeavors to find him, and render you all the 
aid I can. 

“ What have you already done?” asked Mr. Con- 
over. 

“ I have telegraphed to all the surrounding towns, 
described him, asked for information, and have put 
notices in both town and city papers asking him to 
return.” 

“Do you think he is in the power of the tramps?” 

“ I did think so at first, but on more mature delib- 
eration, I do not believe he would voluntarily remain 
with them. It is scarcely possible that they could re- 
tain him against his will for any great length of time. 
I am inclined to think that he is traveling alone, seek- 
ing employment.” 

“ Can you account for his desire to leave you ? ” 

“ I can not, unless he has conceived the idea that 
we suspect him of complicity with the tramps in steal- 
ing my watch.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


151 


“That, perhaps, is the true solution of the mys- 
tery,’^ said Mr. Conover. “I shall start at once in 
pursuit of him, although it will be a kind of wild goose 
chase I know. He was traveling eastward when he 
came here, and he will doubtless continue his journey 
in the same direction. There will be no chance of 
falling in with him if I continue to travel on the cars. 
I shall purchase a horse and buggy and try the coun- 
try roads.” 

“I wish I could accompany you,” said the doctor, 
“but it is impossible.” 

“I do not expect it,” replied Mr. Conover. “I 
am thankful to you for the kindness you have shown 
the boy, and hope I may be able to return it at some 
future time. If anything should transpire that you 
think likely to lead to his discovery, write to me at 
Cincinnati. I will pass through that city in a few 
days.” 

“ Papa ! ” said Carrie, who had been an eager 
listener to this conversation. 

“What, Carrie?” asked Dr. Blair. 

“ Mr. Brown, the detective ; would he not be of 
service to this gentleman ? ” 

“The girl is right,” said the doctor; Mr. Brown is 
shrewd and has indomitable energy. Besides, he 
knows the boy, which you do not, and would, in that 
respect, have the advantage of any man you could 
employ.” 


152 the man who tramps. 

“ Where can this man be found ? ” asked Mr. Con- 
over. 

“-At Calusa. I will go with you at once, and we 
will find him,” said the doctor. 

Mr. Brown was willing enough to undertake the 
search, and so it was arranged that Dr. Blair should 
continue to use all the means at his disposal to trace 
the boy, while Mr. Conover and the detective should 
pursue and endeavor to overtake him. Dr. Blair saw 
the two men drive from the town on the main road 
leading toward the east, and then returned home to 
await the result of the telegrams he had sent to all 
the towns within a radius of a hundred miles. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 

Harry Lawson was again on the road. Circum- 
stances over which he had no control seemed to be 
forcing him despite of his good resolutions, into the 
life of a tramp. He walked on during the night, for 
he had no place at which to stop, and, even if he had 
possessed the means to pay for lodging, so wrought 
up were his feelings that the exercise of traveling was, 
in a manner, a relief to him. He had no plans for 
the future. Indeed, he had no heart left to form 
plans. All the bright hopes and aspirations which 
had filled his heart during his stay with Dr. Blair 
were now gone, and there was left but one wish — to get 
as far as possible from the scene of those hopes and 
their overthrow. Oh, that some one could have told 
him that the hearts of his friends were still true to 
him ; that they were yearning for his return ; that the 
letter he had received was a forgery ; that Flynn, in 
pursuance of his plan to get him into his power, and 
bend him to his will, had forged the note, using as a 


154 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


copy a piece of writing stolen from the doctor’s house 
by Perry Blake ; that his intention was to have it fall 
into his hands while he was yet in the power of the 
tramps, or at least before he met the doctor, but that, 
defeated in this, when he had seen Harry standing 
alone in the town, where he was himself in disguise 
watching the progress of the trial, he had conceived 
the idea of sending it to him by a boy, telling the 
bearer to say, “A note from Dr. Blair;” that he had 
enclosed the money to give the affair an air of greater 
probability, and that he had watched his actions, and 
seen him grind the money under his foot, and take 
his departure from the town ; that he had followed 
him, after first securing the discarded money, and was 
even now dogging his steps, ready to present himself 
as soon as a plausible excuse should offer. Could 
Harry have known all this, his wanderings would 
have ceased at once, and this story would come to a 
quick conclusion. The night was not so dark but 
Flynn kept Harry in sight, but took care to not let 
him know that he was followed. Toward morning 
the tramp, having satisfied himself that Harry would 
continue on the main road, made a detour, and, by 
walking rapidly and running occasionally, managed to 
pass him, and shortly after daylight the two met in the 
road, the tramp apparently coming from the opposite 
direction. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


155 


“ Black Flynn! ” exclaimed Harry, when he recog- 
nized the tramp. 

Harry Lawson ! ” cried the tramp, in pretended 
astonishment. “ What brings you here? I thought 
you had returned to Dr. Blair’s when you made your 
escape.” 

“No,” said Harry, “I went directly to the trial.” 

“The trial? Do you know how it resulted?” 
asked Flynn, pretending ignorance, for it was a part 
of his plan to make the boy believe that he had not 
been at Calusa. 

“They were convicted,” answered Harry. 

“ Well, they deserved it,” said Flynn. “ I warned 
them, but they did not heed it. I did all I could for 
them, as it was my duty to do, but it seems I have 
failed. I have been compelled to be rather rough 
on you, my boy ; but that is past, and I hope we 
will now be friends.” 

“Friends!” exclaimed Harry. “How can you 
have the face to talk to me of friendship, when it is 
by your acts, or at least in pursuance of your orders, 
that I am now again an outcast? I had a happy 
home and kind friends, and my life, for the first 
time, looked bright, but you have blighted it all, and 
made me a tramp like yourself. No! not like you,” 
he continued, fiercely. “Let what will happen I will 
still be honest. I will earn my living some way, and 


156 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


even if I can not, I will starve rather than become 
a companion of thieves.” 

“Well, talk as much as you please,” said Flynn. 
“You are sore now, and of course have hard feel- 
ings toward me, but when you come to know me bet- 
ter you will not think so hard of me. But why did 
you not go back to your friends ? ” 

“ Because they have cast me off,” said Harry, bit- 
terly. “Dr. Blair sent me a note telling me not to 
return to his home. He sent me ten dollars, too, 
but I would rather starve than touch one cent of his 
money while he thinks me a thief. I threw it away.” 

"The more fool you,” said Flynn. “Ten dollars 
are not picked up every day, and you will wish you 
had the money before you are many days older, I tell 
you. What do you intend to do ? ” 

“ I do not know. Anything to earn my living like 
a man.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“That I do not know. I have no home ; no friend 
in all the wide world.” 

“Yes you have, Harry Lawson Throw aside 
these squeamish notions and come with me. I will 
be your friend.” . 

“You! You who have ruined me !” exclaimed 
Harry, angrily. " Why do you persist in forcing 
your companionship upon me. O, you may frown ; 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


157 


but I tell you I fear you not. You may beat me; 
you may even murder me ; but you can never make 
me a vagabond like yourself. I will be honest, let 
what will come of it.” 

” Well, and what has come of your fine notions of 
honesty ? What do people care for you, whether you 
are honest or not, so you do not steal from them? 
They will pity whining vagrancy before they will 
starving industry, and relieve lying thievery as soon 
as they will distressed honesty. You see how it is 
yourself. You lived an honest life with your doctor 
friend ; were faithful and industrious, and what is the 
result ? At the first shadow of suspicion he casts you 
off to starve, or to beg, or steal, he cares not which. 
This is the kind of friendship you will find in the 
career you have marked out for yourself. D — n such 
friendship.” 

“ And what of Sandy Hines and Toney Bazin ? ” 
asked Harry.- “Is it not better to die alone, un- 
pitied; to die of starvation even, than to die like them 
upon the gallows ? ” 

” Never you fear for Sandy Hines and Toney Bazin. 
They are not hung yet.” 

“ Do you mean that they will be rescued ? ” 

“I can not tell you, boy ; but this you will find; 
Jesse Flynn never deserts his friends; no, not even at 
the foot of the scaffold ; and he never forgets his ene- 
mies while they are out of the grave.” 


158 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Which was true as to the last assertion, but the 
reader will scarcely believe the first, when he remem- 
bers the robbery of his companions, when he took 
their ill-gotton booty from its place of concealment 
and appropriated it to his own use. 

“If you wish to be my friend,” said Harry, “send 
back the watch to Dr. Blair, and clear me from the 
dreadful suspicion that has driven me from the home 
and hearts of my friends.” 

“That I can not do,” answered Flynn. “The 
watch, by the manner it came into our possession, be- 
came the common property of the fraternity, and was 
sold, and the money used at the trial.” 

“And you dare to acknowledge this ? ” 

“Why not? Suppose you should befool enough 
to return and denounce me, who will believe your 
story? You, who are yourself suspected by your 
best friends of being a thief. I will swear that you 
came to us of your own accord, as the doctor now be- 
lieves ; that you did not intend to return, and were 
trying to make your escape when you were overtaken 
by the officers. What will the doctor’s pretty daugh- 
ter say to that, think you ? ” 

“Don’t name her y/ith your polluted lips,” cried 
Harry, clenching his hands in impotent rage at the 
unmasked villainy of his companion. “Dr. Blair 
may think me guilty, and Mrs. Blair may doubt me, 
but Carrie will never believe that I am a thief.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


159 


“Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Flynn. “You’d better 
go back and ask her. I think I see her now, tossing 
her proud head, and turning up her pretty nose, as 
she says, ‘ Go back to your friends, the tramps, 
Harry Lawson. I can have no companionship with 
a thief.’ ’’ 

Harry, suffering as he was with all the mental 
agony consequent upon the scenes through which 
he had so lately passed, lost all control of himself at 
the stinging taunts of the tramp, and, frenzied by 
passion, he seized a stone which lay at his feet, and 
threw it at Flynn with all the strength which sudden 
madness could give to his arm. True to its aim, it 
struck the tramp in the face, and he dropped, quiver- 
ing like a slaughtered bullock, into the dust. 

Harry gazed upon the fallen man for a moment 
with a vacant stare of horror as he lay senseless at 
his feet, the black blood oozing from his mouth 
and nostrils, and then he fell upon his knees be- 
side him, and called to him in frenzied tones to 
speak to him. But Flynn was beyond the power of 
speech. Half crazed though he was with terror and 
remorse, the boy heard something which made him 
pause and listen again. As he bent low over the 
senseless man he distinctly heard the ticking of a 
watch. 

“It is the doctor’s watch!’’ cried Harry. Half 


160 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


forgetting the deed he had done in the sudden joy of 
this discovery, he snatched it from the inner pocket 
where the tramp had concealed it. It was, indeed, 
the missing watch. “I will return it, and then they 
will know I am not a thief,” said he to himself, as he 
put it into his pocket.” 

This joy was but momentary. The horror of his 
situation burst upon him again. He did not doubt 
that Flynn was dead. 

“Oh, I have killed him ! I have killed him ! ” he 
cried. He sprang to his feet, and gazed about him, 
but he saw nothing except that ghastly spectacle be- 
fore his mental vision wherever he turned, heard 
nothing but that dreadful cry in his heart, “ Murder! 
murder! murder!” He clasped his hands over his 
eyes to shut out the sight, but it was still there in all 
its terrible ghastliness, and, yielding to the impulse of 
terror, he ran wildly from the spot. He had but one 
thought — to escape from the consequences of the 
dreadful though unintentional crime. He turned 
from the road, and, entering a wood, plunged through 
the underbrush, half imagining that he heard the foot- 
steps of pursuers on his track. Thus he ran through 
woods and across fields, until exhausted nature could 
endure no more, and he fell insensible to the ground. 
How long he lay there no one ever knew, but the 
next morning a farmer's wife saw a young man, well 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


161 


dressed but covered with dust, approaching the house. 
His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were fairly blazing 
in his head, and he reeled like a drunken man. He 
paused a moment when he saw a woman, who, fright- 
ened at his appearance, called loudly to her husband ; 
but before the man could come to the door the youth 
turned and fled, with a wild cry that rang in her ears 
for days after, and she shuddered as she told of the 
terrible madman from whom she had so narrowly 
escaped, as she supposed. 


II 


I 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ESCAPE OF THE PRISONERS. 

But let us return to the two criminals incarcerated 
in the jail at Calusa. Almost immediately after the 
trial there occurred one of those wonderful transitions 
of public sentiment which have become too frequent 
to be called phenomenal. No sooner had the excite- 
ment attending the trial died away, and the spirits of 
the people had begun to feel the overshadowing 
gloom of the approaching execution, than there trans- 
pired an entire revulsion of feeling toward the con- 
demned men. The sadness of their fate became the 
all-absorbing topic of conversation, and those who 
had at first execrated the murderers now sympathized 
with them, and pitied them. Gentle women, who 
had shrunk from their contaminating touch upon the 
streets and in the court-room, visited them in their 
prison, and condoled with them in their “ misfortune.” 
All the delicacies of the orchard, the larder and the 
pantry, were brought to tempt their appetites, and 
all the wealth of motherly and sisterly affection was 
wasted upon their brutish natures. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


163 


All honor to those gentle attributes of woman’s 
heart which find their most congenial employment in 
ministering to the distressed ; but is it justice to suf- 
fering virtue to waste such sweetness on insensate 
clods, who, if they possess souls at all, have received 
their immortality from the fiends ? 

Zealous ministers of the God who has said “No 
murderer shall enter the kingdom of heaven ” wres- 
tled with them in prayer, and bade them hope to step 
from the gallows through the jewel-arched gates of 
the New Jerusalem. Their aged victim, unfavored 
by such holy ministrations, and cut off without this 
dernier repentance, might, perhaps, suffer an eternity 
of torture; but they, the shameless vagabonds, the 
thieves, the ravishers of virtue, the murderers of un- 
suspecting helplessness, might shake the filth of a 
lifetime of vagrancy from their garments, when the 
perpetration of crime was no longer possible, and 
grasp, with blood-stained hands, the golden harps of 
the redeemed, and sing, as echoes to their songs of 
debauchery, the anthems of the blest. 

The prisoners ate the delicacies, leered at the wo- 
men, permitted the prayers, listened stolidly to the 
exhortations, and mocked and laughed at it all when 
they were alone. 

This maudlin sentimentality and misdirected zeal 
soon began to bear its legitimate fruits. Within a 


164 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


week after the trial a petition for commutation of 
sentence was in circulation, and heading the list were 
the names of the jurymen who had tried the case 
and the judge who had passed the sentence. 

Most men instinctively shrink from the conscious- 
ness that they have been, even remotely, instru- 
mental in the death of a fellow-being, and, although 
a juryman may feel that he has done his duty in con- 
demning a culprit, and in accordance with his oath 
could not have done otherwise, yet when an opportu- 
nity offers to shift the responsibility upon another, he 
is generally ready to embrace it. 

The list of names grew rapidly, for people care lit- 
tle what they sign so that it does not affect themselves 
pecuniarily, and it is generally easier to pardon a 
monster of villainy than to raise means to relieve dis- 
tressed innocence. 

One day, while the petition was in circulation, and 
while the devout and the charitable were still labor- 
ing in their respective missions, a woman came to 
Calusa, who claimed to be a sister of Sandy Hines. 
She was neatly and modestly dressed, and pro- 
fessed great piety. She put up at the best hotel, 
and seemed to have no lack of money. She formed 
the acquaintance of several of the ladies who had in- 
terested themselves in behalf of the prisoners, and in 
their company visited the condemned men. Here 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


165 


she wept tragically on the neck of her reputed 
brother, and counseled him to turn his thoughts 
from things of this lower world to the pardoning 
mercy of heaven. Sandy pretended to be much af- 
fected, and promised to comply. She visited the 
prison day after day, in company with others, until 
she was looked upon as a privileged visitor, and was 
finally admitted to see her reputed brother and his 
companion alone. 

On one of these occasions she managed to convey 
to the prisoners a small saw, capable of severing the 
hardest iron bar, and a short crowbar, or jimmy, as 
it is called in burglar’s parlance. The prisoners were 
confined at night in a cell which was thought to be 
secure enough to thwart the efforts of the most ac- 
complished jail breaker, but, during the day, they 
were allowed the range of a kind of gallery running 
between the cells and the outer wall of the building. 
This was thought secure also, for the windows were 
crossed with a heavy iron network, strong enough to 
all appearances to resist any force that could be 
brought to bear upon it. The jailer, therefore, felt 
no fears of the escape of the prisoners. But there 
was one window which opened upon an unfrequented 
alley, and on this they contrived to find opportunity 
to work. Sandy had now grown very religious, and 
occupied a great deal of time when they were alone 


166 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


in singing hymns. At least it was meant for sing- 
ing, but in his deep, hoarse voice it was more like 
the growling of a wounded bear. This ear-splitting 
burlesque of song grated upon the ears of the neigh- 
bors, but it filled the hearts of the good people with 
joy to hear the pious roars of the beast, whom they 
looked upon as a brand snatched from the burning. 
Sandy cared nothing for the adverse criticism of mu- 
sical connoisseurs, but sang away, while Toney kept 
time with the little ribbon of steel which cut its way 
insinuatingly through the metal bars. As fast as 
each bar of the iron lattice was severed, the track of 
the saw was concealed by filling the cut with chewed 
bread rolled in soot, which they procured from a flue 
which opened into the cell. When not at work 
Toney easily concealed the little saw about his per- 
son, and Sandy carried the “jimmy ” constantly with 
him, hid in the lining of his coat, between his shoul- 
ders, where it fitted snugly, giving him but little in- 
convenience. 

In the cell were two iron cots, one for each of the 
prisoners. One evening, after the bars of the window 
had been sawn through, so that a very slight pressure 
would break out sufficient of the iron lattice to allow 
a man to pass through with ease, Toney complained 
of feeling unwell, and lay down upon his cot an hour 
before dark. In this position the jailer found him 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


167 


when he brought the men their supper, and he 
kindly offered to send out for any medicine the sick 
man might need. Toney declined the offer, however, 
and turned his face to the wall with a groan. But 
just before the time for locking the prisoners in their 
cell he arose, and, arranging his bed to look as if its 
occupant was still there, he took the jimmy which 
Sandy handed to him, left the cell, and crouched be- 
hind an angle of the wall at the further end of the 
gallery. When the jailor looked in Sandy was sitting 
on the edge of his cot as if about to lie down, and 
Toney was, to all appearances, occupying the same 
position in which he had left him an hour before. 

"How is Toney?" asked the janitor, as he held 
the door ajar. 

"Better now, I guess,” replied Sandy; "he is 
asleep.” 

The kind-hearted jailor suspected nothing, but closed 
and locked the door, leaving the Frenchman in. the gal- 
lery. About midnight Toney came to the door and 
rapped softly. Sandy answered from the inside. Then 
the Frenchman placed the jimmy in the crevice of the 
lock, and leaned his weight against it. With a sharp, 
quick snap the lock gave way, and the door was open. 
Sandy came forth, bringing with him the quilt from 
his bed, torn into strips, and fashioned into a rope. 
The jimmy again did its work at the grating of the 


168 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


window^ the sash of which was raised to allow a free 
circulation of air through the gallery, and Sandy lifted 
out the section of lattice, and set it carefully against 
the wall. The window was not more than twenty 
feet from the ground, and opened, as before said, into 
an unused alley, which was now dark enough to con- 
ceal their flight. The quilt they tied to the bars of 
the window, which still remained uncut, and in five 
minutes from the time the door was broken, the pris- 
oners were free. 

The next morning the jailer found the broken lock, 
the parted bars and an empty cell. The prisoners 
had forestalled the petition, and had departed. The 
charitable ladies called upon the reputed sister of 
Hines to inform her of his escape, and found that she, 
too, had disappeared. 

Then the people shook their heads sagely, and 
said, “ I told you so.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


PLOTTING FOR REVENGE. 

The first thought of the tramps after their escape 
was of the money they had buried in the thicket, and 
they accordingly fled in that direction. It was day- 
break when they came in sight of the woods. But 
little conversation had passed between them during 
their flight, but now Toney said : 

“Do you tink ze money is tare? ” 

“Of course it is,” answered Sandy. “Didn’t I 
wrap it up so that the water couldn’t hurt it ? and 
who’d think of lookin’ there for money?” 

During the whole time of their journey Sandy had 
been pondering. Eleven hundred and fifty dollars 
was a large sum for one man in his condition, but 
divided by two it looked so small that he kept wish- 
ing that he might have it all. This wish gradually 
grew into a determination to possess it, as he drew 
nearer and nearer to the coveted treasure. He car- 
ried a stout stick, which he had picked up to aid him 
in walking, and he kept clutching it nervously with 


170 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


his hand, as murderous thoughts passed through his 
mind. 

At length they reached the spot There was no 
indication that anything had been disturbed, or even 
that the spot had been visited since they had con- 
cealed their ill-gotten plunder. The two men paused 
to listen. There was no sound of pursuit. Both 
were trembling, but from very different causes — the 
Frenchman from eagerness to grasp his treasure, and 
Sandy from the murderous thoughts within him. 
Satisfied that there was no one near, Sandy said^ 
turning to the place where they had buried the 
money : 

“There it is. Dig it up. 

The Frenchman was only too ready to begin. He 
fell upon his knees and began to scratch away the 
earth. Sandy’s eyes gleamed like those of a maniac, 
and had Toney looked up from his work he would 
have cried out with terror, for over his head was lifted 
the club, swinging in a swift circle through air. He 
saw it not, however, for his eyes were fixed upon the 
earth. With a dull sickening thud the club descended 
upon the head of the unsuspicious wretch, crushing it 
like an egg-shell. He fell forward with his face in the 
pile of earth he had torn up, a convulsive tremor ran 
through his limbs, and then he lay still in death. 
Sandy gazed for a moment upon his victim. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


171 


“There, d — n you, that settles you,” he said. 
“Now, the money is all' mine. I will leave this 
cursed country and go to New York. I’m tired of 
this tramp business, anyhow. With ’leven hundred 
and fifty dollars a man can have a lot of fun in New 
York. D — n this Black Flynn. I’ll not be his slave 
any longer. I’ll go where I can be my own boss. ’’’ 

He spurned the body brutally aside with his foot, 
and, bending down, began to dig for the money. He 
soon reached the bottom of the excavation he had 
previously made, but he found no money. He sprang 
to his feet and gazed about him with a bewildered 
stare, then fell again upon his knees and tore wildly 
into the yielding soil. It was of no avail. 

“ It’s gone,’’ he howled. “It’s gone! It’s gone 1“^ 

He sprang to his feet again and stamped upon the 
ground and tore his hair in frenzy. Then his eyes 
fell upon the ghastly object at his feet, and realizing 
the uselessness of the terrible crime he had commit- 
ted, he fled from the place with a howl of mingled 
rage and terror. 

Days after, the half-decayed and mutilated body of 
the wretched Frenchman was found and recognized as 
that of one of the objects of misplaced sympathy of 
the inhabitants of Calusa, and people said, “ Here is 
where they hid the money they took from their vic- 
tim. One ruffian has killed the other and fled with 
the wages of their crime.’’ 


172 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Sandy Hines continued his flight toward the east, 
avoiding the public roads and keeping in the woods 
and along the fences, until evening, when he entered 
a by-road that seemed to wind about and lead no- 
where in particular. The strip of grass growing 
along its center, between the wheel tracks, indicated 
that it was but little used, and would probably lead 
to some retired farm house, which the tramp might 
approach with safety and get something to eat, for he 
was now weak from hunger, not having dared to stop 
for food during the day. Just before sundown he 
came to a small house, far from the main road, and al- 
most hidden by surrounding woods. He approached 
the open door and looked in. At first he thought 
that there was no one in the room, although he could 
hear some one moving about in a room back of this, 
which was used as a kitchen. As he was about to 
knock upon the open door to attract the attention of 
this person, his glance fell upon a bed in one corner 
of the room, and he could scarcely suppress a cry of 
astonishment. There, with one arm thrown above 
his head, his eyes closed, and his breath coming and 
going with the regularity and softness of refreshing 
sleep, lay Harry Lawson. He was thin and pale, as 
if just recovering from a severe illness, yet the tramp 
recognized him at once. Sandy’s first thought was 
of flight, but before he could turn away the kitchen 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


173 


door opened softly and an old woman came into the 
room. She started and appeared half frightened when 
she saw the tramp, but motioning toward the bed, 
she put her fingers upon her lips and came to the 
door. Sandy stepped outside, beyond the sight of 
the sleeping youth should he awake, and made 
known his request after the usual fashion of such 
gentry. The kind-hearted old woman listened to 
and believed his pitiful story of destitution, and, 
leading the way around the house in order not to 
disturb the sleeper, she bade him sit down on a 
bench by the back door of the kitchen, and gave him 
food. 

“Who’s that?” asked Sandy, motioning over his 
shoulder toward the sleeper, at the same time sup- 
pressing his voice so as not to awake him ; a thing he 
was anxious not to do. 

“ It’s a poor boy that my old man found more’n a 
week ago lyin’ in a fence corner down the lane. He 
was crazy as a loon with fever, and we carried him to 
the house and put him to bed. He wouldn’t stay 
there at first, though, and jumped up and tried to run 
away. He said some one was a follerin’ him and 
wantin’ to take him, and he called himself a murderer 
and kept cryin’ out that he wasn’t a thief, and talked 
about a doctor and a watch and a tramp and all sorts 
of nonsense.” 


174 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“Did you send for a doctor?” asked Sandy — for 
he was anxious to know if others besides this old 
couple knew that Harry was here. 

“Yes,” said the garrulous but kind-hearted old 
woman. “ There’s a yarb doctor lives across the 
woods yonder. We had him, and he dosed the boy 
up with teas and stuff, and the fever went down so 
he’d lay in bed without holdin’, but he kept on a 
talkin’ and cryin’ just like a crazy person.” 

“ Didn’t he call no names, so’s you could tell who 
he is?” asked Sandy. 

“Oh, he called a lot of names, but I couldn’t make 
head nor tail of what he said. Sometimes he’d talk 
about a court and a watch, as I said, and then he’d 
grow quiet-like, and talk about a woman he called 
Emma, or Sary, or Carrie, or some such name ; his 
sister, as like as not, though I guess the most of it 
was fever-crazy.” 

“ What are you goin’ to do with him? ” 

“Why, what should we do with him, 'man, but 
keep the poor fellow till he gits well, as 1 hope he 
will. He’s at hisself now — got better about noon 
to-day — but he’s too weak to talk, and I thought I 
wouldn’t bother him with questions just yit. But 
there comes my old man now.” 

Sandy had no wish to meet the man just then, so 
he said something about having a good ways to go, 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


175 


and walked off eating the food which the kind-hearted 
old lady had given him. 

“ Harry Lawson,” said he to himself, as he walked 
along. “How did he come here? It must be fifty 
miles, at least, to Calusa; and then, a cornin’ here 
crazy ! I’ll bet Black Flynn has had a finger in this pie 
somehow. Well, it’s lucky I saw him before I woke 
him up. He might have knowed me and put the cops 
after me. I owe him one, though, for gettin’ me into 
that scrape, and I’ll pay it, too, if I ever have a 
chance.” 

So muttering he continued his way, and slept that 
night by the side of a fence several miles from the 
farm house where Harry lay, slowly recovering from 
the effects of the fever wl;iich had prostrated him. 

Having, on escaping from his prison, decided to 
leave the country, Sandy determined to carry out his 
intention, even though he had lost the money with 
which he had expected to have what he called ” lots 
of fun.” He continued his way, traveling mostly at 
night and hiding during the day, stealing food when 
he could, but rarely venturing to beg except at out 
of the way places, until he passed the borders of In- 
diana and entered Ohio. Here he felt himself more 
safe, and occasionally approached a house, but was 
still suspicious of danger, and avoided the towns and 
villages. 


176 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


One day while walking along the main road, which 
he now ventured to travel occasionally, he saw a 
buggy approaching, and, as was usual with him since 
his escape, he hid at the side of the road to let it pass. 
When it came opposite he saw that it contained two 
men, one an elderly gentleman with gray whiskers 
and hair, who was an entire stranger, but at sight of 
the other Sandy started with surprise and fear. 

“Brown, the detective, by ,” he growled 

through his set teeth. “He is after me,” and he 
crouched low behind the fence. But he was not dis- 
covered, and the men drove rapidly by. 

“That was a close shave,” said Sandy when they 
passed out of sight. “ That infernal detective is dog- 
ging me down. What could have put him on my 
track? Tm not safe here. I’ll go to Cincinnati and 
hide there till this thing blows over. If they’re 
huntin’ me in the country. I’ll try the city.” So he 
turned his face toward Cincinnati and proceeded on 
his way, redoubling his caution, until he at times ab- 
solutely suffered for want of food, in his fear of being 
discovered and apprehended. But as the reader is 
already aware, the detective and his companion, Mr. 
Conover, were not hunting Sandy Hines, although 
they had learned through the papers of his escape. 
It was Harry Lawson whom they were seeking. 
Harry Lawson, who, all unconscious of the exertions 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


177 


being made in his behalf, lay at the little secluded 
farm house within fifty miles of his anxious friends, 
the doctor’s family. 

For days the detective and Mr. Conover had driven 
over the country in search of the boy ; three times 
they had fancied themselves on his track, but on com- 
ing up with the person they were pursuing, found 
that it was one whom they did not know. They, had 
abandoned what seemed now to be a useless search, 
and were on their way back to Calusa, when they 
were seen by the tramp, whose guilty conscience 
caused him to fancy that he was the object of their 
pursuit. 

Sandy Hines r^ched Cincinnati, and not daring to 
appear openly upon the streets, he entered the city 
in the night. He was well acquainted there and knew 
all its dens of infamy and places of concealment, so he 
selected a house kept by an old acquaintance and 
located near the river. 

It appeared that he was to continually meet with 
surprises, for the first man he saw at this place was 
Black Flynn. Flynn’s head was bandaged, his face 
was terribly scarred, and his nose broken and perma- 
nently deformed, but Sandy recognized him at once. 

“ How did you come here and what’s the matter 
with your face?” exclaimed Sandy, as soon as they 
met. 


12 


178 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“I came here because I wished to ! ” replied Flynn, 
savagely, ‘ ‘ and my face was beaten to this shape by 
that cursed boy, Harry Lawson.” 

“Harry Lawson!” cried Sandy, “That boy beat 
you up in this way?” 

“Hush!” said Flynn. “We will be overheard. 
Let us go into one of these empty stalls and sit down.” 

The room on one side was divided into stalls, as 
Flynn called them, and ordering brandy, he led the 
way to one at a distance from the bar about which the 
inmates were collected. When they were seated, and 
both had drunk, Sandy said : 

“Come, tell us all about it. How could that boy 
beat you up so ? ” 

“With a stone, when I was off my guard,” an- 
swered Flynn. But let me ever meet him again, and 
he may look his last on the sun. I’ll have his heart’s 
blood for this.” 

“ But how did it happen?” asked Sandy. 

Flynn related as much of the affair as he wished his 
companion to know. The reader is familiar with the 
story up to the point where Harry, dazed with terror at 
the supposed result of his momentary passion, had fled 
from the spot, leaving the tramp apparently lifeless in 
the road. Flynn came to his senses after a time, and, 
before any one passed that way, he was able to stag- 
ger away and find a spring in the woods, where he 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


179 


bathed his wounds and further revived himself. Not 
wishing to be seen in that neighborhood in his bat- 
tered condition, he had waited until night, and then, 
proceeding to the nearest railroad station, had taken 
the first train to Cincinnati, where he hoped to be 
able to patch up his dilapidated countenance. But in 
spite of all the skill which money could command his 
face was deformed for life, and his heart was full of 
bitter curses and thoughts of vengeance on the boy 
whose act had made him the hideous object which 
Sandy, brutal as he was, almost pitied as he beheld. 
There was a moment of silence between the two, dur- 
ing which Sandy was trying to decide in his mind 
whether he should tell Flynn that he had discovered 
the boy at the farm house, and he was still unde- 
cided when Flynn gave him a sudden start, which 
drove the boy out of his mind, by asking : 

“ Where’s Toney ? ” 

Flynn was not looking at him when he asked this 
question, or the sudden pallor which spread over 
Sandy’s face would have caused him to suspect some- 
thing of the dreadful deed committed in that lonely 
wood. The latter recovered his composure in an in- 
stant, however, and replied : 

“Don’t know. Gone east, I guess.” 

“ How did you get out of jail?’ asked Flynn. 

Sandy related the circumstances as the reader 
already knows them. 


180 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ I knew Mag would do the work if any one could," 
said Flynn. “ I set it up as soon as I found that you 
were gone up. She’s worth her weight in gold in a 
case like this. Did she play the pious dodge ? ’’ 

“You bet.” 

“ Well, that’s the safest. It always takes them. 
A few tears and sniffles, and plenty of prayers, and 
groans, and amens. What fools people are, anyway." 

Do you know what’s become of the boy ? ” asked 
Sandy. 

“No! I wish I did. I’d soon settle him. Just 
think of having to carry this scarred face and this 
crooked nose all my life. Why the women all turn 
away from me with a shudder, and the very dogs 
snarl at me as I pass. I’d give a thousand dollars to 
get hold of him." 

“Whew! A thousand dollars!" cried Sandy. 
“ Have you found a gold mine ? " 

“I mean I would if I had it," said Flynn, seeing 
that he was going too far, for he feared his companion 
might suspect his agency in the disappearance of the 
old man’s money, the greater part of which was still 
in his possession. He had been wondering ever since 
he had met Sandy if he had yet discovered his loss, 
but dared not say anything about it. 

“ Perhaps he’s gone back to the doctor’s," said 
Sandy, feeling his way toward the revelation he had 
not yet decided to make. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


181 


“No, he has not,” answered Flynn. “ Only yes- 
terday I saw a notice in the paper asking him to re- 
turn, and offering five hundred dollars to any one who 
would 'give information leading to his discovery.” 

“That would be a good thing, if a feller only 
knowed where he was,” said Sandy. 

“ Do you suppose I would tell them if I knew ? 
What would their paltry five hundred dollars be to 
me, compared with the satisfaction of getting the 
young viper into my power and paying him for what 
he has done to me? O, I’ll find him yet, without 
their reward, and when I do I’ll even up the score if 
I die for it.” 

This decided Sandy. To tell Flynn what he had 
discovered would be to put him on the track of the 
boy, and thus cause him to lose the reward, which he 
had determined to win. But how should he manage 
to communicate with Harry’s friends without betray- 
ing himself. This puzzled him for a time, but at 
length a happy thought came to him, and he asked 
Flynn : 

“ Where’s Mag ? ” 

“ She’s at Mother Sligo’s, on — th street,” answered 
Flynn. “ I saw her yesterday. But why do you 
ask ? ” 

“O, I thought I’d like to see her; that’s all!” 
said Sandy. 


182 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


This was his plan. To communicate with the doc- 
tor by means of the woman who has already figured 
in these pages as instrumental in the escape of the 
murderers. But little more passed between the two 
men, and at length Flynn rose to go. 

“Have you any money?” asked Sandy. “I’m 
dead broke.” 

“ I have a little. I’ll divide with you,” said Flynn, 
and giving his companion a five dollar bill, he left 
the room. 

Sandy waited until he thought that his late com- 
panion was out of sight, and then, after taking another 
drink at the bar, he also left the den and proceeded 
toward — th street. Sandy was well acquainted with 
the house to which he was going, and had no diffi- 
culty in finding the woman he wished to see. When, 
however, he asked her to act as a means of commu- 
nication between himself and Dr. Blair she objected, 
because she herself would be in danger of arrest, if 
recognized, for the part she had taken in the escape 
of the prisoners. She promised at length to find a 
woman who would have no such risk to run, if Sandy 
would agree to divide the reward. This the tramp at 
first refused to do, offering to give the woman a hun- 
dred dollars ; but she was firm, and he consented at 
last, and agreed to meet her and the woman she was 
to select the next day, and give full directions about 
the location of the house where he had found Hqrry. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


183 


When Sandy left Mother Sligo’s he felt sure of at 
least half the reward offered for the discovery of the 
boy; but if he could have known that the man 
sauntering down the opposite side of the street, when 
he emerged from the house, was Black Flynn, he 
might have had some misgivings. After leaving the 
saloon Flynn had called to mind some words and ac- 
tions of his companion which led him to ponder, and 
putting this and that together, he had begun to sus- 
pect that perhaps the tramp knew more of Harry’s 
whereabouts than he cared to disclose. "If he does 
know where he is he will try to get Mag to help him 
secure the reward,” said he to himself. So he had 
loitered near the door, and when Sandy came out 
he had followed him. When he saw him enter 
Mother Sligo’s den he was almost confirmed in his 
suspicion, and resolved to watch closely further de- 
velopments. So when Sandy called at the house 
again, next day, Flynn entered almost immediately 
after him, and, calling for the woman who kept the 
den, he asked her if there was any way in which he 
could overhear the conversation between Sandy and 
the woman Mag. Mother Sligo at first thought not, 
but when Flynn slipped a ten dollar bill into her 
hand she suddenly remembered that if he would con- 
ceal himself in a room adjoining he could listen 
through the keyhole. The old hag pointed out the 


184 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


way to this room, and Flynn stole softly into it. He 
first applied his eye to the keyhole, but could see no 
one. He applied his ear next and heard the sound 
of voices. Listening intently he discovered that 
there were three persons in the room. The voices 
of Sandy and Mag he recognized, but the other was 
that of a strange woman. The conversation was car- 
ried on in low tones, yet Flynn heard every word, 
and soon learned that Sandy had found the boy, and 
was now giving directions to the strange woman, 
which inform.ation she was to impart to Dr. Blair for 
the offered reward. He waited long enough to be put 
in possession of tlieir plan of procedure, which the 
reader will discover in due time, and then left the 
house. He placed himself on the opposite side of 
the street, however, and waited until he saw Sandy 
and the woman, whom he did not recognize, come 
out and pass down the street together. Then he 
hastened to a small, dingy shop in one of the lower 
streets of the city, and in a few minutes came out 
with a bundle under his arm, and proceeded to the 
house at which he had been stopping. 

On a westward bound train which left the city that 
night were two passengers, unknown to each other, 
yet bound upon much the same mission. One was a 
woman about thirty years old, modestly dressed in 
black, and having every outward appearance of re- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


185 


spectability. The other was a tall man in the dress 
of a farmer or drover, with heavy black whiskers and 
long black hair. But a close observer would have 
noticed an ugly scar, scarcely healed, extending from 
his right eye across his cheek, and would have dis- 
covered that his nose was scarred and all awry, as if 
it had received a heavy blow that had forever de- 
stroyed its symmetry. The reader, who has seen 
him since Harry put his mark upon him, would have 
recognized Black Flynn, in spite of his false hair and 
beard, but one who only remembered the bold, hand- 
some face of the tramp, as we first knew him, would 
have passed him by as a stranger. The woman con- 
tinued on the train until it reached the town of 
Calusa, but the man had left it at a small station fifty 
miles further east. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE FRUITLESS SEARCH. 

Mr. Conover and the detective came back to Dr. 
'Blair’s without having learned anything of Harry. 
The doctor’s notices and telegrams had accomplished 
no more.' Mr. Conover returned to the east to at- 
tend to some business which imperatively demanded 
his attention, promising, however, to return at an 
•early day, for he had not given up all hope of finding 
Harry. Dr. Blair, however, was much disheartened. 

“ I fear he has fallen in with the tramps again, and 
\vill remain with them,” he said. 

“ He will never be a tramp,” said Carrie, decidedly. 

“Carrie is right,” said Mrs. Blair. “Harry will 
never be a tramp. I can not solve the mystery of his 
disappearance, but I am sure that, of his own choice, 
he will never lead such a life. I fear that the tramps 
have been instrumental in his disappearance, but, if 
he is with them, it is as a prisoner.” 

“ That is not at all probable,” said the doctor. “ It 
was quite possible for them to keep him for a time, 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


187 


while their haunt in the big swamp was unknown, 
but it is not likely that they have many such places 
of concealment ; besides, it is seldom that they are 
banded together in such numbers. They are usually 
wandering about the country, singly, or in twos or 
threes, and it would be impossible to keep the boy 
with them against his will.” 

“Yet I can not but fear that some evil has befal- 
len him at their hands,” said Mrs Blair. 

“Do you think they would murder him?” asked 
Carrie. 

“No, no, my child,” said Mrs. Blair. “Not so 
bad as that, I hope.” 

Yet Mrs. Blair did fear that very thing, although 
she was loth to admit it, even to herself. Since the 
escape of the murderers, she had feared that the boy 
might have been killed, either by them or their 
friends, in revenge for the part he had taken against 
them. But this fear she endeavored to conceal from 
her daughter. 

As days passed on and nothing was heard of Harry, 
hope died out of their hearts, and they mourned for 
him almost as for one dead. Carrie’s cheeks grew 
pale, and she moved listlessly about the house en- 
tirely unlike the light-hearted girl of a few weeks be- 
fore. Her music was almost neglected, and Mrs. 
Blair had heard her sing but one song since Harry 


188 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


had left them so mysteriously, and that was sad, and 
burdened with tears. 


SONG. 

Oh, heart, we w'ere glad when we saw in our dream 
The white wings of hope as she flew ; 

Her pinions aglow with the sun, and the gleam 
Of her eyes like the dawn on the dew. 

And we thought she would fly like a bird to its nest ; 

And dwell with us ever to nestle and sing ; 

Oh, heart, we' were dreaming, she never can rest. 

For sorrow, the fowler, has wounded her breast. 

And she flies like a shelterless thing. 

Oh, heart, we are weary of waiting in vain. 

As castaways wait in despair; 

To find what they fancy a sail on the main 
Is the wing of the albatross there. 

While the tempest flies on, and the billows are white, 

As they dash into foam on the breakers alee. 

Oh, heart, must we watch through the gloom of the night. 

Till hope, like the albatross, weary of flight. 

Sinks into the islandless sea ? 

One day, about two weeks after Harry’s disappear- 
ance, and shortly after Mr. Conover left for the east. 
Dr. Blair received the following note : 

Dr. Bi.air: — You can learn something concerning the young 
man, Harry Lawson, by calling at the Gurney House in Calusa, and 
inquiring for the subscriber. Mrs. Mary Bartlow, 

Not knowing what the nature of the promised in- 
formation might be, and not wishing to give his fam- 
ily unnecessary anxiety, the doctor said nothing of 
this letter to either his wife or daughter, but pro- 


THE MAH WHO TRAMPS. 


189 


ceeded at once to the place indicated. He inquired 
for the woman whose name was signed to the note, 
and was shown at once to her room. On introducing 
himself, he said : 

“ I infer from your note that you can give me some 
information concerning one for whose fate I am very 
anxious. Do you know where he is? ” 

"No,” said the woman; " I do not know exactly 
where to find him. The truth is that the affair does 
not concern myself at all. A cousin of mine saw 
your advertisement offering a reward for the recovery 
of the boy, and is confident that he has seen him 
within a few days, and can produce him when re- 
quired. When he gave me this information I was 
very anxious to have him come to you at once and 
relieve your anxiety, but I am ashamed to say that 
he is very avaricious, and seeing a chance to re-» 
alize pecuniary benefit from the thing, he refuses to 
assist in the matter unless he is sure of the reward. 
It was only through anxiety to relieve your distress 
that I consented to come here, for, I assure you, if it 
were left to myself I would not think of demanding 
pay for doing what is plainly a duty. But my 
cousin would not give me any information concern- 
ing the young man until I promised to see you and 
get positive assurance that he will receive the reward 
you have offered.” 


190 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


“Well, what further assurance does he want?”” 
asked Dr. Blair. 

“ He says it will be sufficient if you will personally 
agree to pay me the five hundred dollars as soon as 
you are conducted to the place where the boy now is,, 
and are satisfied that he is there.” 

“But how did your cousin find him? Was he 
looking for him in order to earn the reward?” 

“No, not that exactly; but my cousin is a sort of 
itinerant peddler, and found the person, whom he be- 
lieves to be Harry Lawson, while pursuing his calling 
through the country.” 

“Is he near here? Is he in the State?” 

“ My cousin told me to answer no questions until 
the reward was secured?” 

“Your cousin is very suspicious. You can at least 
tell me if the boy is well.” 

“He has been very ill, but has nearly recovered.” 

“111!” exclaimed the doctor. “Why did I not 
think of that? That accounts for the fact that we 
have heard nothing from him. Poor fellow. Is he 
in good hands?” 

“I do not know. My cousin did not say. He 
only said that you could find the boy if you would' 
pay the reward.” 

“Well, when will this cousin of yours condescend! 
to give me this information?” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


191 


“I am to conduct you to the place at once if you 
agree to pay the money as soon as you meet the 
boy. ” 

“But you said you did not know where he was. 
How then can you take me to him, even if I promise 
you the money?” 

“I said not exactly ! I can find the place, perhaps, 
if you agree. You will have nothing to lose. Re- 
member the money is to be paid when you meet the 
boy.” 

“But why does not this cousin of yours come him- 
self, since he would be able to conduct me to the 
place without the delay of searching for it?” 

“That I do not know. Nor need it concern either 
you or me. I suppose he has his own reasons for 
the course he has taken. Provided you find the boy 
you have no reason to complain.” 

“Certainly not,” said the doctor, who, from the 
first, had suspected that this man had some good 
reason for wishing to remain unknown, and that the 
woman was not so disinterested in the matter as she 
pretended. But he cared nothing for this, provided 
he could find Harry Lawson. He therefore agreed 
to accompany the woman at once. He asked her if 
they were to travel far. The woman declined to an- 
swer the question. “ Will we travel by rail, or by 
private conveyance ? ” he asked. 


192 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Partly by one way, partly by the other,” was 
the reply. 

“ But how will I know how to provide for my jour- 
ney if I am not to know the distance nor anything 
concerning it?” asked the doctor. 

The woman hesitated a moment. She had not 
thought of this. Her object was to get the doctor 
away from Calusa without allowing him to communi- 
cate with his friends in town. At length she said : 

“ I will tell you this much. You will not be gone 
more than two days. We will take the first train go- 
ing east, and I will tell you where we will leave the 
cars after we have started.” 

” But why all this secrecy? ” asked the doctor, be- 
ginning to grow suspicious. 

” It is my cousin’s orders,” was the reply. 

Dr. Blair desired to take either the detective 
(Brown) or Mr. Rickard with him, but the woman 
informed him that he must go with her alone or not 
at all. 

“You can write to your family if you wish,” said 
she, “ and tell them how long you will be absent. 
Tell them your business, too, if you think best, but 
if you desire to find the boy you must hold no com- 
munication with any one here concerning your, jour- 
ney.” 

Dr. Blair was not deceived by the woman’s pre- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


193 


tended disinterestedness in the matter. He sus- 
pected something near the truth at once. This 
cousin was either a myth, or evidently a criminal, 
who did not wish to run the risk of detection. 

“ One of the tramps, no doubt,” thought he, “who 
has discovered the boy and wishes to receive the re- 
ward, yet fears to appear in person. Well, there 
can be no personal danger to myself. I will go.” 

He informed the woman of his determination, and, 
after giving her his promise that he would not com- 
municate the fact to any one at Calusa, he left the 
room to provide himself with the money to pay the 
reward, and to write to his family, explaining his ab- 
sence. In an hour after they were on the train, 
when the woman told him where they were to stop. 

“So near? ” said he. “How could we have missed 
him in our search ?” 

“We will have to go a few miles into the country,” 
said the woman. “You will hire a carriage at the 
place where we leave the cars, and in a few hours we 
will be at our destination.” 

Let us now return to Flynn. The reader will re- 
member that he left the cars the night before, at the 
place to which Dr. Blair and the woman who had 
called herself Mrs. Bartlow, were proceeding. He 
did not wait for morning, but set out at once for the 
secluded farm-house where Harry had been discovered 

13 


194 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


by Sandy Hines. The directions he had overheard 
had been very explicit and easily followed, for both 
he and Hines were well acquainted with the country, 
and knew every highway and byway in the vicinity. 
It was morning when he reached the place, and, as 
he stealthily approached the house, he saw the old 
man come forth and proceed toward the fields to his 
work. It was not his intention to go at once to the 
house, but to reconnoiter without being discovered, 
and to watch for a favorable opportunity to wreak his 
vengeance upon the defenseless boy. Revenge was 
burning in his heart, and the demon of murder was 
whispering in his ear. Nor was this to be wondered 
at in a man of his character. Although a professional 
tramp, he was both ambitious and vain. His ambi- 
tion was to be a ruler among his fellows — to be a 
leader in the new order of things which he hoped to 
see inaugurated, and he was vain of his personal ap- 
pearance — had been, rather, for now he was a monster 
of ugliness. Is it any wonder that one of his dispo- 
sition should nurse the passion of vengeance in his 
heart, and watch like a hungry tiger for an oppor- 
tunity to destroy the youth who had disfigured him 
for life ? 

He concealed himself in a thicket near the house 
and watched hour after hour for a sight of his intended 
victim, but Harry Lawson did not appear. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


195 


“Can it be that he is not yet able to be out of 
bed?” he asked himself. “It may be. Well, all 
the better. I will wait till night, and then steal up to 
the house and see. If he is still in bed, I will shoot 
him as he lies. Still, I would like to have him know, 
before he dies, that he owes his death to me. The 
other parties will not probably be here before to-mor- 
row. Then they will find him — well, they will be 
welcome to him then.” 

But Flynn found an opportunity to approach the 
house before night. He saw the old lady come out 
of the door and proceed toward the stable, which 
stood at some distance from the house. “ Now is my 
chance,” thought he, as he left his concealment and 
stole cautiously toward the open door. He reached 
it without discovery and looked in. The room was 
empty. In one corner stood the bed on which Harry 
had lain when he was discovered by Sandy, but it 
was unoccupied. 

“ Has he gone ? ” thought Flynn. 

Rendered desperate by the thought of his disap- 
pointment, he boldly entered the house. He passed 
through the front room and opened the kitchen door. 
No one there. There was a small room adjoining the 
one he had first entered. Into this he looked. It 
was a sleeping room, containing one bed, but, like 
the other, unoccupied. 


196 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“He has gone,” said he to himself. “I am too 
late. I will wait until the old woman returns, and 
then I will ask her. I may get upon his track.” 
But at this moment he heard a sound which startled 
him. It was the rattle of approaching wheels. Glanc- 
ing hastily down the lane he saw a carriage. < 

“The other party,” he thought. “I must hide 
again.” 

It was too late to seek his former place of conceal- 
ment, for he would certainly be seen by the occupants 
of the carriage before he could reach the thicket ; so, 
looking hurriedly about him, he saw that a small gar- 
den lay on one side of the house, and that a row of 
currant bushes lined the fence. Into this garden he 
ran, and was safely concealed within a few yards of 
the door before the carriage reached the house. No 
one had discovered him. He recognized Dr. Blair, 
who at once sprang out and walked hurriedly to the 
door. The woman who accompanied him still re- 
mained in the carriage. The farmer’s wife had re- 
turned by this time, and met the doctor at the 
threshold. The latter made known his business at 
once. 

“ He is gone,” said the old woman. 

“ Gone ! ” exclaimed the doctor. “ When ? How ? ” 

“He went last night,” said she. “We didn’t 
know nothin’ about it till mornin’. Then we found 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


197 


a piece of paper on his bed. I’ll show it to you.” 
She brought the paper, and Dr. Blair read : 

My Kind Friend : — I thank you from my heart for the kindness 
you have shown me, and wish that I had money to pay you for the 
expense you have been to on my account. (“As if we cared for 
that,” interrupted the old woman. The doctor read on :) I will 
pay you some day, if I live. But I must leave you. I can give 
you no reason ; you may know some day, and then you will regret 
that you ever brought me back to life. (“Yes, the poor feller was 
about gone, that’s a fact,” said the old woman.) Why did you not 
let me die?” (read the doctor.) “Yet I am grateful for your ef- 
forts to save my wretched life, and will always remember your kind- 
ness to one who is Friendless. 

“ How beautiful it all sounds when you read it,” 
said the old woman. “ My old man is a master hand 
at print, but he can’t make much of writin’, and he 
had to spell it but, so it didn’t sound half like it does 
now. ” 

Dr. Blair recognized Harry’s writing at once. 

“ Have you no clue? ” he asked. 

“ How?” 

“ Have you no idea which way he went ? ” 

” None in the world.” 

“ Do you know what time in the night he went? ” 

” No ; we didn’t miss him till mornin’.” 

“ Do you think he had any money ? ” 

“ Not a cent; but he had a big watch. It was yal- 
ler like gold ; but my old man said ’twas brass as like 
as not.” 

‘'A watch ! Did he take it with him ?” 


198 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


" Yes. It was layin’ on the mantlepiece last night, 
but it was gone this mornin’.” 

“A watch,” repeated the doctor to himself. “A 
gold watch ! Can it be possible ? But no, I will not 
believe it. No thief could write such a letter as that. 
There is some mystery here which time alone can un- 
ravel ; yet” — 

“ What was you a sayin’ ? ” asked the old woman. 

“Nothing,” answered the doctor. “That is, noth- 
ing of importance. But how did this boy come here ? 
I heard he was sick. Had he recovered ?” 

The old woman repeated the story of Harry’s ill- 
ness much as the reader has heard it before. 

“ Had he fully recovered?” asked the doctor. 

“ Hey?” 

“ Was he entirely well ? ” 

“ No, not quite. But he was stronger, and seemed 
quite peert yesterday.” 

“ Did he say nothing of his friends during his con- 
valescence ? ” 

“Which?” 

‘ ‘ Did he speak of his friends after he began to get 
well ?” 

“No, scarcely a word. He did say somethin’ 
about a doctor, once ; but I didn’t understand him 
quite.” 

“Do you think he could travel far in his present 
condition ? ” 


THE MAN WHO TEA A/PS. 


199 


“I don’t think he could go far afoot.” 

The doctor was puzzled. The boy had eluded him 
again, and he knew not which way to turn. He re- 
turned to the carriage, where his companion was still 
sitting. She had overheard the conversation, and 
explanations were unnecessary. There was but one 
thing to do now : to return home, put the detective 
on the track, and try to overtake him. Most men 
would have abandoned the matter here ; but Dr. 
Blair loved Harry almost as a son, and he determined 
to continue the search while there was the slightest 
chance of finding him, for he felt assured that some 
misunderstanding existed, or the boy would not thus 
try to elude his friends. It was necessary to return 
toward the railroad station at once in order to reach 
it in time for the westward-bound train. He accord- 
ingly entered the carriage and drove rapidly away, 
unmindful of the old lady’s request that he should 
wait and see her ” old man,” who would be in soon 
from the field. 

Flynn waited until the farmer’s wife entered the , 
house, and then, leaving his concealment, he pursued 
the same direction taken by the carriage. 

‘^ril find him yet,” he muttered. “I’ll find him 
yet, if I have to spend my life in the search. The 
world is not big enough to hold us both.” 


CHAPTER XVIL 


HARRY A FUGITIVE. 

Harry Lawson remembered nothing from the time 
he fell from exhaustion, while fleeing from the scene 
of the homicide — as he supposed — until he awoke 
from his delirium at the house of the kind old couple 
who had snatched him, as it were, from the grave. 
When his reason came back he found himself lying 
helpless upon the bed in a strange room, and a 
strange face bending above him. His first question 
was : 

“ Where am I? What has happened ? ” 

“ You’re here,” replied the old woman ; which in- 
formation did not enlighten him to any great extent. 

“ What is the matter? Have I been sick?” he 
asked. 

“Yes,” was the reply, “ you’ve been mighty sick. 
Nigh unto death’s door, I reckon, but you’re better 
now, and you’ll git well, I guess, if you don’t worry 
too much. You’ve been as crazy as a bed-bug, and 
a carryin’ on like anything, but it’s all over now. Who 
are you, my boy ? Must we send your people word 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


201 


Harry did not answer at once. His mind flew 
back over the events of the days immediately pre- 
ceding his illness, and, springing into startling dis- 
tinctness, came the memory of his terrible crime. He 
shuddered and groaned aloud, as he buried his face in 
his pillow. 

“What’s the matter now?” asked the kind-hearted 
old lady. “Do you feel worse?” 

“ No! no! ” said Harry through the sobs that shook 
his frame. 

“There, there! Poor boy! poor boy!” said the 
old woman, soothingly laying her wrinkled hand 
gently upon his head. 

There was something in the touch of that hand 
which made Harry’s heart leap and carried his mind 
back to the time when another hand, not old and 
wrinkled like this, but beautiful even in its pallor, 
had been laid upon his head, and the words yet rang 
in his ears, ” Father in heaven protect my poor or- 
phan boy.” His heart was full and ready to burst, 
and this simple act of motherly kindness thrilled to 
his inmost being, and he seized the hand of the kind 
old creature and pressed it to his lips. 

“ There,' there ; poor boy! Don’t, now!” said she, 
gently, as she turned away her face to hide her tears. 
“ We’ll not talk any more. Go to sleep now ; it’ll do 
you good,” and she stole softly from the room. 


202 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


But Harry did not go to sleep. He felt in his heart 
that the blessings of innocent repose were never more 
to be his. The same terrible cry which had hounded 
him in his mad flight again rang in his ears. “Mur- 
derer! murderer! murderer!” He longed to recall 
the old woman and question her. He wanted to ask 
if the body had been discovered; whom they sus- 
pected of the murder ; but he dared not do it. His 
eyes wandered restlessly about the room and fell at 
length upon the doctor’s watch, which lay upon the 
shelf where his new friends had placed it when they 
took it from his pocket. It was silent now, for it had 
not been wound since it came into his possession, and 
he shuddered as he thought that the last hand which 
had turned its key was now rigid in death — made so 
by his own rash act. 

“ Why did I not endure his taunts,” he said to him- 
self. “ Why did I yield to my passions and by one 
impulsive act render my whole life wretched. I will 
return the doctor’s watch to him, but he must never 
know where I am. As soon as my strength will per- 
mit I must be gone. They are, no doubt, hunting 
for me to arrest me, and it is strange that they have 
not yet found me. Perhaps they have found me,” he 
thought with a shudder, “ and are only waiting till I 
am well enough to be removed. I must know some- 
thing about it. I will ask,, let the consequence be 
what it may. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


203 


So when the old woman again came into the room 
Harry said : 

“ Have you a late paper that I can see ? ” 

“ Laws no,” said she. “ We can’t afford to take a 
paper. They’re too costive. There’s an old Bang- 
town Slasher here somewhere, that my old man bor- 
rowed of Sam. Peters to see about the spring election, 
but I don’t know where it is now.” 

“ Have you heard of anything happening lately — 
any — any — accident — or — or anything like that?” 

“No, nothin’, only Si. Philips a gittin’ his leg 
broke. That happened last week. Betsy Flanders 
told me about that. You see he was a choppin’ on a 
tree and ” — 

“No, I don’t mean that,” said Harry. “ Nothing 
else ? Nothing at a distance ? ” 

“ Laws sake alive ! How’d we know about any- 
thing away off. We never goes to town only when 
we’re obleeged to, and that ain’t more’n once a 
month. But what’s put that in your head ? ” 

Harry did not reply. 

“ Has anyone been inquiring for me ? ” he asked at 
length. 

“ Nobody, only some of the nigh neighbors. Betsy 
Flanders were here, and Dr. Ginsang were here to 
see you two or three times.” 

“ I mean has there been any stranger here? ” 


204 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“No. Yes; now I think of it, there were a poor 
man here yisterday who had lost his wife, and was 
hungry, and sick, and out of work, and was agoin’ to 
some place away off. I’ve forgot where, and he 
wanted a bite to eat, and he asked who you were, 
and — ” 

“ Did you tell him?’’ asked Harry, ‘anxiously. 

“ Laws sakes alive ! How’d I tell him when I 
didn’t know, and don’t know yit for that matter. 
Was you lookin’ for some one ? ’’ 

“No,” replied Harry, and he turned his face to 
the wall and ceased to talk. 

Harry saw but little of the old farmer, for he was 
constantly at work during the day, and at night he 
went to bed as soon as it was dark. The old lady, 
however, was his constant companion, and did every- 
thing in her power to make him comfortable. She 
prepared various dainties to tempt his appetite, and 
once she persuaded a neighbor’s boy to kill a squir- 
rel for him, and Harry thought he had never tasted 
anything half so delicious. Days passed on, and he 
slowly regained his strength. Nearly two weeks had 
passed since the kind old couple had carried him, 
crazed with fever, into their house, and he was al- 
most well. He took all the exercise his strength 
would permit, for he longed to be away, and only 
waited till his limbs were strong enough to bear him 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


205 


on his journey. Not but that he could have been 
well contented here, for he had been so kindly 
treated by the farmer and his wife that it had begun 
to appear like home to him, but that dreadful terror 
was ever behind him, and he felt as if there was no 
peace, no safety, but in flight. 

At length he felt himself sufficiently recovered to 
venture on his way again, and, accordingly, he left 
the house of his kind friends in the night, as already 
stated, leaving the note which Dr. Blair had read. It 
was early in the night when he started, at first almost 
aimlessly but at last with the purpose of reaching 
Cincinnati. He did not doubt that the officers of jus- 
tice were on his track. At times he was almost de- 
termined to give himself up and end the anguish of 
suspense and remorse that was driving him, a friend- 
less wanderer, through the country. But then he 
thought of the long, weary months in prison, the ter- 
ror of the public trial, the horrors of imprisonment 
for life, or, it might be, death upon the scaffold, and 
he fled blindly on his way like one followed by the 
avenger of blood. He still retained possession of the 
doctor’s watch, for he dared not approach a railroad 
station to express it to its owner for fear of detec- 
tion and arrest for the murder of the tramp. 

When morning dawned he found himself tired, 
hungry and penniless. Just as the sun was rising he 


206 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


came to a small grove by the side of the road, and, 
entering it, he sat down upon a log to rest. 

“ What shall I do?” he asked himself. “lean 
neither beg nor steal. Must I die of hunger and ex- 
haustion in a land overflowing with plenty ? I might 
get work, if I only dared to stop. But no, I must go 
on, not daring to pause until I am so far away that 
my pursuers can not overtake me. But will I ever 
be safe ? May I not be apprehended when I least ex- 
pect it ? I am a criminal — a murderer in the sight of 
the law, though, God knows, I did not intend to kill 
the man. Yet that would not save me. The arm of 
the law is long, and I have read that murderers never 
escape. Where now are all my hopes ? Where now 
is all my ambition ? I had planned for myself a life 
of honor and usefulness. I had pictured to myself a 
home of pleasure and comfort. What am I now? 
A wretched outcast from society, a fugitive from jus- 
tice, fleeing through the country like an escaped 
felon. And what will be the end ? Can I ever shake 
off this terrible weight from my heart and brain? 
Shall I ever hope again ? Must remorse ever be my 
companion, poisoning every pleasure, turning every 
cup of happiness to bitternes? Must I go, like a 
miserable vagabond through the world, a skulking 
coward, with this ghastly terror ever at my heels? 
Why did they, in their mistaken kindness, parry the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


207 


blow which death in pity aimed at my breaking 
heart ? Oh ! that I had the courage to go at once 
and meet my fate and end this misery. But I can 
not ! ” He threw himself prone upon the grass and 
buried his face in his hands. “Oh, mother! mother!” 
he cried. ‘ ‘ If the dead can love the living ; if heaven 
listens to the prayers of love ; pray for me, again, 
your dying prayer : ‘ Father in heaven protect my 

poor orphan boy.’ ” 

Sobbing like a child he lay until exhausted nature 
ceased to struggle with grief, and pitying sleep came 
and soothed his sorrow into sweet forgetfulness. 

The sun rose above the tree-tops and threw its soft, 
mellow light upon him as he lay ; the birds sang in 
the wild plum bush above him, and shook the dew- 
drops upon him as they chased each other through 
the foliage ; a squirrel came down an oak near him 
and scampered along a log at his side, unheedful of 
his presence. Still he slept on, the sweet refreshing 
sleep of tired youth, and one might have said, to see 
him there : The dead do love the living — and heaven 
hears the prayers of love. 

And while he lay here at rest, forgetful of the fears 
which had hounded him all night long — fears of pur- 
suers who were purely imaginary — his real ‘enemy, 
he from whom he had most to fear. Black Flynn, lay 
concealed in the thicket near the farm-house, watch- 


208 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


ing vainly for his appearance, not knowing that he 
had again taken to flight. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


HARRY AND HIS NEW FRIEND. 

As Harry lay sleeping, unconscious of his wretch- 
edness, there came along the road a man, traveling in 
the same direction he had been pursuing. This man 
carried, slung under his arm by a strap which crossed 
his shoulder, a bundle of old umbrella handles and 
wires, tied up in a piece of dirty canvas. In one 
hand he carried a small tin box, which doubtless con- 
tained the scanty “kit” of tools necessary to his 
trade, and in the other a paper parcel loosely done 
up. He walked with a light step, and apparently a 
light heart, for he whistled merrily to the birds and 
mocked the squirrels that barked at him from, the 
trees by the roadside. When he reached the place 
where Harry had turned aside, he, too, saw the 
green, inviting spot under the trees, and, lightly 
climbing the fence, approached it at once. He was 
about to seat himself upon the log, when he saw the 
sleeping boy. 

“ Well, I’ll swear! ” said he. 

14 


210 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


He did not swear, however, but approaching the 
boy he gave a loud hem ! This failing to arouse the 
sleeper, he touched him lightly with his foot and said: 
“Hello! ’Sleep?” 

This had the desired effect. Harry sprang up, and^ 
gazed about him with a bewildered air. His first 
thought, after he had collected his faculties suffi- 
ciently to think at all, was that the pursuers he had 
been dreading all the night were now upon him, but 
a second glance at the good-natured face of this man 
convinced him that he had nothing to fear. 

Been asleep ? ” asked the man. 

“Yes,” said Harry. 

“ Been cryin’, too, hain’t you ? ” 

Harry did not deny it. Indeed, if he had been so 
inclined, his red and swollen eyes would have be- 
trayed him ; so he made no reply. 

“ Been travelin?” asked the man. 

“Yes.” 

“.Which way?” 

“To the east.” 

“Well, that’s my way, too. What you been 
cryin’ about ?]” 

Harry did not answer. 

“Yes, yes; I see,” said the man ; “ I know. Out 
of work ; out of friends ; out of money ; out of heart ; 
tired and hungry, and all that. Been sick, too, hain’t 
you ? ” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


211 


“Yes,” answered Harry. “I have but just recov- 
ered from a severe illness.” 

“ Well, now. I’ll bet a nickle you hain’t been to 
breakfast yit, this mornin’.” 

“ I’m afraid you would win,” said Harry. 

“Well, now, I thought so. Neither have I. I 
jest come over here to eat a bite myself. That’s 
about what’s the matter with you. We’ll soon bust 
that disease. Here’s the medicine for your com- 
plaint. Warranted to cure or no pay,” and he 
opened his paper parcel, displaying a quantity of 
bread and meat more than sufficient for two hungry 
men. “ Now then, pitch in, and help yourself.” 

Harry’s eyes betrayed his eagerness, but he hesi- 
tated. 

“What you waitin’ for?” said the man. “Maybe 
you think I stole it, or begged it. Well, I didn’t. 
I’m none of your whinin’, thievin’ tramps, now don’t 
you forget it. I’m a respectable travelin’ mechanic,” 
and he laughed iherrily as he tapped his tin box. 
“This here grub is paid for in good, honest coppers. 
That’s my style; so pitch in* I’m as hungry as a 
bear myself, and I shan’t wait for manners if you 
don’t hurry up.” 

Thus urged, Harry hesitated no longer, but 
“pitched in” in good earnest, while the umbrella 
mender himself was not backward in appropriating 
his own share. 


212 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ It ain’t all the time that you can git sich grub as 
this in these parts, I tell you,” said he; “’less you 
stop and take a square meal, and that costs too much. 
So le’s fill up, while we have the chance.” 

Harry ate until his hunger was appeased. “This 
is not begging,” he said to himself. “ What is freely 
offered, I may take without shame.” 

Those who think differently may settle the point 
to suit themselves. A hungry man sometimes sees 
things in a very different light from one who is well 
fed. 

Harry, now, for the first time, narrowly observed 
his new companion, the umbrella mender. He was 
a small man, considerably below the medium height, 
quick and active in his every motion, and with good 
nature beaming from every lineament of his coun- 
tenance. His blue eyes were full of merriment that 
appeared ever ready to bubble over and flood his 
handsome, almost boyish face, with smiles." “This 
is an honest man,” thought he. “ He is no tramp, 
as that term is generally understood. Such a nature 
would not stoop to beg, and he is too good natured 
to steal.” He felt that he had found a friend, and 
his tired, aching heart went out toward this man, and 
he said to himself, “ Here is a companion I can 
trust.” So when their breakfast was eaten, and the 
umbrella mender proposed that they should travel 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


213 


together, for a time at least, Harry’s first impulse 
was to accept the offer at once, but then came again 
that haunting fear of detection, and he hesitated. 

“I fear I would only be a burden to you,” he 
said. 

“ Fiddlesticks ! How, I’d like to know ?” 

“ I have no money, and would only be an expense 
to you. I must find work of some kind to-day, for I 
can not beg.” 

“ Well, who asked you to beg ? What you goin’ 
to work at ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“I thought so. Now don’t be so techy, boy. 
Don’t I see you are alone and friendless? Hain’t I 
alone, too? I git awful lonesome travelin’ along 
these here out-of-the-way roads, and we’ll be com- 
pany for each other. Besides, I will learn you my 
trade and you can help me.” 

“ But would we find work for two ? ” 

“ Well, umbereller mendin’ hain’t very lively now, 
that’s a fact, but we’ll git enough to keep us ; don’t 
you be afraid.” 

Harry pondered. Would he really run a greater 
risk of arrest by traveling with this man than to stop 
and hunt for work, as he would otherwise be com- 
pelled to do ? Besides he felt his courage renewed 
by the hearty breakfast he had eaten, and under the 


214 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


influence of the genial good nature of his new-found 
friend. So he said : 

“ I will go with you.” 

“ Good ! ” replied the man. ” Now you’re talkin’.” 
And he led the way to the road, and they began their 
journey. 

“ What point are you making for ? ” asked Harry. 

“Well, no place in partic’lar. Cincinnati, may 
be.” 

“I should like to go to Cincinnati,” said Harry. 

“All right. It doesn’t make no difference to me. 
I ’spect I’m what folks would call a reg’lar vagabon’, 
for I wander about here, there and everywhere, just 
as the notion takes me.” 

“ Have you no home?” asked Harry. 

” No home and no kin,” replied the man. “ I ’spect 
I’m an orphant,” and he laughed. 

“How long will it take us to get to Cincinnati?” 
asked Harry. 

” That’s owin’ to how fast we travel. We’re about 
thirty miles north of there now, and, I ’spect, about 
fifty miles west. We could git there to-morrow night 
without crowdin’.” 

Harry still adhered to the purpose he had pre- 
viously formed to proceed to Cincinnati, and there 
endeavor to get passage up the river on a boat. He 
was very anxious to reach the city as soon as possi- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


215 


ble, but he did not care to betray his eagerness to 
his companion. So he said nothing further on the 
subject. The umbrella mender, however, was in a 
talkative mood. 

“ What is your name ? ” he asked. 

'‘Harry Lawson,” answered Harry, before he took 
time to think of the probable consequences of betray- 
ing his name to his new companion. He glanced 
anxiously at the man, but there was nothing in his 
countenance to indicate that he had ever heard the 
name before. Harry felt greatly relieved. 

“Well, my name’s Moon,” said the man, “Billy 
Moon. You see, I didn’t have any name of my own, 
so they gave me the first they thought of as like 
as not. Leastways that’s the handle they give me, 
and it suits me as well as any, I reckon. No, I never 
had a home,” he continued, referring to Harry’s pre- 
vious question. “The first I remember I was a lit- 
tle barefooted, dirty chap at the county poor house. 
When I was big enough to know what was what, 
that kind o’ thing didn’t suit me, and I run away.” 

“Did they treat you badly?” asked Harry. 

“ Worse’n a dog. They scolded and beat and 
kicked me about, jist like it was my fault I was born 
a pauper. I tell you, boy, it’s terrible hard to feel 
that you hain’t got a friend in all the wide, wide 
world, and people a treatin’ you jest like they 


216 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


thought you hadn’t no business to be born at all if 
you didn’t want to be kicked about jest as they 
please.” • 

“ I know ! I know ! ” said Harry. 

“Well, as I was a sayin’ I run away. But that 
didn’t help things much. I got jest about as many 
kicks and cuffs, and not half so much to eat. It 
'peared like I was jest one too many, and there 
wasn’t no place for me. Ever feel that way, boy?” 

“ Yes, yes,” sighed Harry, ” I know just how 
you felt.” 

“Well, I was knocked from piller to post till I 
was nigh onto twenty, I reckon, though I never 
knowed how old I was, exactly, and I hadn’t a cent 
in the world and no trade, and no learnin’ nor 
nothin’. Did you ever have a mother to nurse and 
pet you ? ” 

“My mother died when I was very young,” said 
Harry in a trembling voice. “But I remember 
her.” 

“Well, I don’t know nothin’ about my mother. 
Never heard nobody say as I had one. But I used 
to stand and watch the little chaps what had mothers 
to take care on ’em, and I tell you it’s a big thing. 
If I’d had a mother what was a mother I wouldn’t 
a been trampin’ round mendin’ umberellers. There 
wasn’t a formed thing that I could do, ’cept to work 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


217 


by the day when I could git a job, and people don’t 
like to hire sich chaps as me when they can help it. 
I managed to git along, though, someway, till the 
war broke out, and then I went into the army. I 
got along first-rate there, for I was used to roughin’ 
it and that kind o’ thing jist suited me. It was the 
first time I ever had any friends, and I tell you I felt 
good. I felt like a man. I got through all right, 
and then, when I was discharged, I lost sight of all 
my friends, and hadn’t nothin’ to do any more. So 
I knocked about a spell, workin’ at one thing or 
’nother, but it seemed like I couldn’t stick to nothin’. 
I’d never had a reg’lar job, ’cept in the army, and I 
’spect I wasn’t much account nohow, so I took to 
trampin’ about. I’d had enough of the pauper 
business to do me, so I didn’t go to beggin’. You 
don’t ketch me askin’ people for somethin’ to eat 
and havin’ them turn up their noses at me ; least- 
ways not while I can help it. Well I tried scissors 
grindin’, but it was too hard work to carry the 
grindstone, so I took to mendin’ umberellers. That 
does well enough when the weather’s bad, but folks 
don’t need umberellers in good weather, so the 
work’s a little light sometimes ; but I manage to 
pick up a livin’. It don’t take much, and I’ve 
nobody to keep but myself, and where’s the dif- 
ference ? ” 


218 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ But you’ll be old some day,” said Harry. “ What 
will you do then ? ” 

‘ ‘ Well, I don’t know. I never think of that. Now, 
you’re a chap what’s got learnin’, I ’spect, and you’ll 
have a chance to git along. But I tell you when a 
feller don’t know B from a bull’s foot, and has no 
friends to give him a boost, there’s not much chance 
for him now-a-days, 'cept jest to make a livin’.” 

” I believe you could do better if you would try,” 
said Harry. 

“ I don’t know I guess I’m a reg’lar born vager- 
bon’, but I’m none of your lousy, thievin’ tramps, I 
tell you that.” 

“ Do you never fall in with tramps ? ” asked Harry. 

“Lots o’ times, but I don’t stay with ’em. I tell 
you they’re after no good. I’ve heerd ’em talk. 
They’ve got a lot o’ fellers among ’em that’d jest as 
leave cut a man’s throat as not, and the most of ’em 
would rather steal than beg any time when they git 
a chance. I stumbled onto a camp of ’em once, and 
there was a feller there makin’ a sort o’ speech to 
’em, and he told ’em that things was a goin’ to be 
fixed up so’s they’d all git rich. They was goin’ to 
divide up things, he said, and they’d all git a sheer. 
I wanted to ask ’em how long they’d keep it, but I 
dassent to, ’cause you see they thought I was as good 
a tramp as any of ’em. Lots o’ people think that, as 
like as not, to look at me,” and he laughed merrily. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


219 


Harry was at a loss to understand his new com- 
panion, who indignantly denied being a tramp, yet, 
save the begging and crime which are characteristic 
of the modern article, he could not see so much dis- 
tinction after all. If his experience of the world had 
been larger he would have recognized his new friend 
as one of a class by no means small in this country — 
restless men, who acquire a habit of wandering, and 
are never content to settle down to any regular em- 
ployment. Some of them are tradesmen, good me- 
chanics, so far as skill is concerned, but without am- 
bition or stability of purpose, and many of them, 
alas, rendered reckless and shiftless by the use of 
ardent spirits. Good-hearted fellows in the main, 
most of them, who harm themselves more than any 
one else, yet, deny it as they may, they form one 
wing of the great army of tramps, and from their 
ranks come many recruits for that class which we 
might term the Regulars. Good matured, honest, 
they may be, yet vagabonds after all. Harry, how- 
ever, did not stop to argue this question. There was 
something about this man which inspired confidence, 
and the companionship was grateful to the boy, 
whose heart was hungry for friendship. He half 
forgot the terror. which haunted him as he listened 
while this man rattled away about himself. But 
when he changed the conversation, as he did after a 


220 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


time, and began to ask questions, Harry gave such 
short and unsatisfactory answers that the man 
stopped, and looking him squarely in the face, said: 

“ See here, boy, if there’s anything you don’t want 
to tell, say so, and I’ll not ask you any more questions. 
It’s none of my business, I know, and you’ve a right 
to keep mum if you want to ; but if we’re to travel 
together it’ll be best if I know who you be. Don’t 
be afeard of me. I ’spect you’re runnin’ away from 
home, hain’t you ? ” 

“I have no home,” said Harry, sadly. 

“No friends you’re afeared will foller you?” 

“No. No friends.” 

“Well, then, what is it? Come, out with it. Have 
you been doin’ some dirt, and had to skip out ? ” 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

“ Hain’t been a stealin’ nothin’ ?” 

“No,” said Harry indignantly. 

“Well, I didn’t think you was that kind. You’re 
too young to be doin’ anything very bad.” 

“I would rather not talk about myself,” said 
Harry. “ I can tell you this much, however, I have 
done no intentional wrong.” 

“ Well, I don’t ’spect you have ; so let it go. But 
if you’re in trouble, you’ll find the best way’s to spit 
it right out, when you find a feller as you can trust. 
Maybe you think I’d blow on you, though ? If you 
do, you don’t know Billy Moon, that’s all.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


221 


“ No, I don’t think that,” replied Harry, “ But I 
have nothing to tell,” 

“Then what do you keep lookin’ back so much, 
and actin’ so nervous like? You can’t fool me, boy, 
I’ve been watchin’ you. You’re afeard of somethin’,” 

“I have nothing to tell you,” said Harry, yet he 
trembled and grew pale, “It was your own propo- 
sition that w'e should travel together. I did not seek 
your confidence. I thank you for the aid you have 
rendered me, but if you can not trust me, we had 
better part.” 

“ There, now, don’t fly up. Of course I can trust 
you. What difference does it make? If you don’t 
want to tell, let it go. Only I thought you had some- 
thin’ heavy like, on your mind, and it would do you 
good to git it off. You’re your own boss, though — 
do as you please.” 

Harry longed to unburden his mind of its dreadful 
secret, but he dared not do it, so he kept silent. 
There was one thing which troubled him sorely. He 
still had the doctor’s watch, and he longed to return 
it to him, yet scarcely knew how, without betraying 
himself to his pursuers. After walking in silence for 
a time, for Billy had ceased to talk, and amused him- 
self by whistling and occasionally singing a few lines 
of a song, he made up his mind to ask advice of his 
companion without, as he thought, betraying himself ; 


222 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


SO he said: “If you had something which you 
wished to send to a friend without his knowing who 
sent it, how would you do it ? ” 

“Well, that’d depend on what it was,” said Billy. 

“Well, a — a watch for instance.” 

“Why, I’d send it by express from the first sta- 
tion I come to.” 

“ But if you had no money?” 

“That wouldn’t make a mite of difference. I’d 
let my friend pay for it when he got it. The young 
chap has bilked a watch and wants to send it back,” 
he thought to himself. “Well, I wouldn’t a thought 
it of him.” 

Harry said no more on the subject at the time, nor 
did he notice that he had been inconsistent in asking 
the advice of one whom he had previously refused to 
trust with the history of his life. If his companion 
observed the fact he made no remark, but began to 
talk again in his merry, rattling manner, and mile 
after mile was passed over almost unnoticed. The 
road they were following had not yet passed through 
any of the larger towns, which lay upon the great 
thoroughfare of railroad travel, and it was not until 
afternoon that they came to a railroad station. Here 
Harry made an excuse to leave his companion for a 
time. Billy fully understood his purpose, but said 
nothing to him about it. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


223 


“ He’s gone to send back the watch,” he said to 
himself, as he saw Harry enter the station. “Well, 
poor feller, he’s sorry enough now, by his looks; so 
I’ll not say anything about it.” 

Such, indeed, was Harry’s mission. He wrapped 
the watch up in a neat package, unobserved by the 
agent, and then asking for a pen, he directed it to Dr. 
Blair and handed it to the man. 

“ Pay charges here ? ” asked the man. 

“ No,” replied Harry, as he walked away, and he 
had reached the door when the agent called him back 
to get a receipt for the package. He put this in his 
pocket without taking time to look at it, and rejoined 
his companion. The two then proceeded on their 
way. 

Billy Moon stopped occasionally to ask for work, 
but did not appear the least disappointed that he 
found none to do. 

“All right,” he said, “ we’ll get on faster.” He 
had sufficient means to purchase food, which he in- 
sisted on sharing with Harry. Nothing further of 
interest occurred during their journey. They slept 
that night in the open air, as the weather was warm, 
luckily for Harry, who was still suffering somewhat 
from the effects of his recent illness, and the next 
evening, just after dark, they entered Cincinnati. 

Where you goin’ to now?” asked Billy. 


224 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“To the river,” said Harry. “I want to get work 
on a steamboat.” 

“Better not try that,” said Billy. “Tve been 
there, and I’d rather be an army mule than a rousta- 
bout on a steamboat. It’s worse’n a dog’s life.” 

“ I only want to work my passage up the river,” 
said Harry. 

“ Oh ! that way,” said Billy. “ Well, come along; 
I’ll show you the way.” 

On reaching the river wharf they found quite a 
number of boats taking on and putting off lading, 
and Harry, accompanied by the umbrella mender, 
went from one to another, trying to find one going 
up the river on which the boy could work his pas- 
sage to Pittsburg. After several fruitless trials, 
Harry at last found a mate whose heart was less 
hardened than those of his fellows, and who took 
pity on the delicate youth, and gave him permission 
to stay on his boat. ‘ ‘ Of course you’ll only be in 
the way,” he said; “but if you want to go so bad, 
I’ll find something for you to do.” 

So it was settled, and Harry sat down on the deck 
in front of the great glowing furnace, for the boat was 
almost ready for departure — would go about midnight, 
the mate said. Billy Moon told Harry that he wanted 
to go up town awhile, and would return to see him 
off and bid him good-bye. Now Billy was one of 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


225 


those unfortunate creatures called periodical drink- 
ers. As long as he was in the country, away from 
the temptations of jolly companions, he kept sober 
enough, but a visit to the city meant to him a 
drinking spree, which usually lasted as long as he 
had money to buy a drink or a friend to treat him. 
He did not proceed far from the river, therefore, be- 
fore he entered a saloon and called for a drink. As 
he was waiting to be served a man came in and ap- 
proached the bar. Billy turned to the new comer 
and observed that he was a tall man with a face hor- 
ribly scarred, although partially concealed by a high 
coat collar and a slouch hat. It was, in short, our 
old acquaintance. Black Flynn, whom we left follow- 
ing Dr. Blair’s carriage as it returned to the station, 
after the fruitless search at the farm house. His first 
intention had been to try to find the boy by following 
him through the country; but, recognizing the un- 
certainty of such a course, he remembered that 
Harry’s previous intention had been to go to Cincin- 
nati, and thinking that, in all probability, he would 
now proceed to that city at once, he resolved to take 
the cars and return there to await the boy’s coming. 

It was early in the night, and the regular customers 
of the saloon had not yet come in. With the excep- 
tion of the bar-keeper, the two men were the only oc- 
cupants of the room. Billy, like all good-natured 

15 


226 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


men addicted to drink, loved company in his cups, 
and he invited the stranger to drink with him. Flynn, 
nothing loth, accepted the invitation, and after drink- 
ing a glass of brandy was about to leave the room, 
when a remark by the umbrella mender caused him 
to change his mind. 

“ Fm jest in from the country, you know,” said 
Billy, “ and Fm as dry as a fish. Haven’t had a good 
square drink for three weeks.” 

“Which way have you been ? ” asked Flynn. 

” Out in Injiany,” said Billy. 

“What part?” asked Flynn. “Have another 
drink? Fll set them up this time.” 

“ Don’t care if I do,” said Billy, answering the last 
question first. “What parts have I been in? Oh, 
the south part mostly. Up as far as the Nash’nal 
road.” 

“ Been traveling alone ? ” 

Mostly,” said Billy, after swallowing his whisky. 
“ Had a pard part of the way in.” 

“ Fm looking for a friend in from that direction. 
Maybe you’ve seen him. A heavy-set man with red 
hair. Limps a little.” 

“ Haven’t seen him as I know of,” said Billy. 

As the reader is aware it was no ‘ ‘ heavy-set man 
with red hair” that Flynn was looking for. But 
with the usual cunning of men of his class he wished 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Til 


to ascertain if Billy had seen Harry Lawson, without 
asking the question directly. 

"Well, I suppose he will be here before many 
days,” he said, referring to the imaginary "heavy-set 
man.” " By the way, where is your pard? ” 

" Oh, he’s not here. He’s down at the river. I’m 
goin’ down there to see him off directly. He’s a lit- 
tle pale mite of a chap, hardly fit to take care of him- 
self.” 

" Let’s sit down and have another drink,” said 
Flynn, eagerly. He did not doubt that he had at 
last found the boy. 

"Don’t care if I do,” said Billy, who was now be- 
ginning to feel the effects of the liquor he had drunk. 
He had so thoroughly enjoyed his own potations 
that he did not observe that on the last occasin Flynn 
had only sipped his brandy, and then poured it slyly 
on the floor beside the counter, else he might have 
suspected that his companion had some sinister de- 
signs in plying him with liquor. 

It is true that the tramp might have satisfied him- 
self by asking his question direct, but he feared that 
if the umbrella mender’s companion was Harry Law- 
son the boy might have told him enough to put him 
on his guard as soon as he began to ask direct ques- 
tions. Besides, it was not in his nature to deal can- 
didly with any subject, and he preferred the more in- 


228 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


direct way. The men seated themselves at a table at 
one end of the room, and Flynn plied his companion 
with liquor until Billy swore that the tramp was the 
best fellow in the world, and the latter had no diffi- 
culty in learning that it was indeed Harry Lawson 
who had entered the city in company with this man, 
and was even then on one of the boats lying at the 
wharf. 

“ What boat is your friend on?” asked Flynn. 

“Well, I’ll swear I didn’t notice the name. But I 
know where zhe lays. I’ll find ’er. Come along. 
I’ll introduce you. I’ll tell him you’re a friend of 
mine. The best feller in the world. Drink like a 
fish. Treat like a gent’l’man.” 

“ When are you going ? ” 

“ ’S soon’s yer ready.” 

“I can’t go with you,” said Flynn, after a mo- 
ment’s thought. “I want to see a man up street, 
and it’s time I was off.” 

“ Well, i’s jest’s zhu please. I’ll go’n she’s boy 
off. Good feller, Larry Hawson. Like zhim like’s a 
brozer.” 

“ Good night,” said Flynn, as he rose to go, for he 
feared the fellow would get too drunk for his pur- 
pose. 

“Good bye,” said Billy as he got to his feet by 
the aid of the table. “Good feller zhat,” he said as 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


229 


Flynn left the room. “ Good feller. Treats Hke’z 
a fish.” 

Flynn walked to the opposite side of the street 
and waited until Billy came out, and then followed 
him, as he walked unsteadily toward the river. 

“That’s lucky,” he muttered; “I’ve found that 
d — d boy, and I’ll make an end of this business 
now.” 

Billy Moon staggered across the gang plank and 
looked about for Harry, but the boy had changed 
his position, and he did not see him. The liquor he 
had drunk had by this time so completely overcome 
poor Billy that' he forgot all about Harry, and tumb- 
ling down among some barrels on the forward deck, 
he was soon in a drunken sleep. 

Midnight came, and the steamer was ready to leave 
the wharf. Just as the men were about to take in 
the plank, a tall man, wearing a slouch hat, came 
hastily down the wharf and sprang on the deck. The 
boat backed into the river clear of the other shipping, 
and, swinging gracefully around in answer to her 
helm, turned her prow up stream, and sped away on 
her voyage. Billy Moon snored away in his drunken 
sleep among the barrels. Harry sat on the after- 
deck alone, and watched the lights of the city fade 
away as the boat plowed on her way up the river. 
Black Flynn, concealed in the shadow of the wheel- 


230 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


house, looked out upon him with vengeance in his 
glance and murder in his heart. 

An hour passed on. Lulled by the monotonous 
sound of escaping steam and splashing paddles, Harry 
fell asleep. Flynn left his concealment and stole to- 
ward him. Once he paused and looked about him. 
No one was near. He reached the side of the sleep- 
ing boy and bent above him. 

Ay, shudder in your slumber, gentle maiden, in 
your far-off home, and grow cold at heart. It is not 
all a hideous dream. Pray, sainted mother, if the 
dead e’er pray, “ Father in heaven, protect my poor 
orphan boy ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE VILLAIN FOILED. 

Flynn bent for a moment above his intended vic- 
tim, and having assured himself that the boy was 
asleep, he took from his pocket a small “billy” made 
of rattan, loaded at one end with lead — a most mur- 
derous weapon — and raised his arm to strike, but 
the blow did not fall. A pair of powerful arms 
grasped him by the shoulders, and, with a quick and 
nervous motion, sent him spinning against the tim- 
bers enclosing the lower deck. With a curse the 
tramp sprang up, but met the cold muzzle of a re- 
volver pressed in his face, and a voice demanded : 

“ What are you doing here?” 

This noise awoke Harry, who arose, bewildered, to 
his feet. Flynn, finding himself detected, made no 
reply. 

“Here, boy, do you know this fellow?” asked the 
man, whom Harry now recognized as the mate of 
the boat. 

He drew near, and although the light was dim and 


232 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


uncertain in this part of the boat, he could not be 
mistaken in that form, notwithstanding the features 
were partially concealed and bore the frightful scars 
they had received at his hand. He started back with 
an exclamation, half surprise, half terror : 

“ Black Flynn ! ” he exclaimed. 

Flynn laughed — a yicious, devilish laugh it was, 
that made the boy’s blood run cold. 

- “ So you know me, in spite of these d — d scars ? ” 

he said. “ How do you like the looks of your work ? ” 
and he removed his hat and turned his face more to 
the light. 

Harry shuddered, for that countenance, disfigured 
as much by hatred as by its scars, wore the expres- 
sion of a fiend. 

“ I am sorry I struck you,” he said, “but you drove 
me to desperation by your taunts after the injuries 
you had inflicted upon me. I am glad, however, that 
it is no worse.” 

“No worse!” fairly howled the tramp. “No 
worse I what could be worse than to be compelled to 
carry this d — d hideous face through the world, an 
object of loathing or terror to all I meet?” 

“ I thought I had killed you,” said Harry. 

“Hal ha! ha !” laughed the tramp. “ No doubt 
your will was good enough, but you see I am still 
alive. I intend to live till I even up the score be- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


233 


tween us, and then I don’t care how quick I die. 
You’re not rid of me yet ; you’ll find that out.” 

“ Come, I’ve heard enough of this,” said the mate, 
who all this time had kept the tramp covered with 
his pistol, for he saw that he still meant mischief. 
“ I saw you when you came aboard and I didn’t like 
your looks, so I kept my eye on you. It’s well for 
you, my boy, that I did. I know nothing of the 
quarrel between you two, but I knew that this fellow 
meant to murder you and fling you into the river. 
That’s enough to send him up for a while, and I’ll see 
that he doesn’t trouble you again while you are on 
this boat. I don’t understand exactly what you’ve 
done to him, but I should say he deserved all he got. 
Now, march ! ” he said to Flynn. “ We’ll give you 
a cabin passage until we can hand you over to the 
officers.” 

Flynn sullenly obeyed and walked in front of the 
mate toward the forward part of the boat. As before 
stated, this incident took place on the after deck. 
The crew'were all busy on the forward deck, and, 
but for the watchful eye of the mate, Flynn would 
have accomplished his murderous purpose without 
hindrance. Harry followed the two men with 
mingled emotions of fear and joy. Fear for his life, 
since the tramp had sworn to destroy it, but joy 
that Flynn was alive and that the terrible crime of 


234 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


murder no longer rested on his soul. “ He is alive ! 
“He is alive!” he repeated to himself. “Thank 
God, I am not a murderer; ” and his heart bounded 
and his blood glowed under the influence of that 
thought, and he felt like one who had just awakened 
from a frightful nightmare, thankful that it was all a 
hideous dream. 

On reaching the foot of the stairs which ascended 
to the cabin Flynn attempted to put his hand into 
his pocket, evidently with the intention of drawing 
a pistol, but the watchful eye of the mate detected 
the movement, and he said : 

“Stop that, or I’ll shoot you.” 

The tramp lowered his hand. 

Several of the crew now collected about the trio, 
and the mate ordered them to disarm the tramp. 
This they did, and took from him a revolver and a 
murderous looking knife. The “ billy ” had fallen on 
the deck where the mate had first seized him. Two 
of the men took hold of him, one by either arm, to 
prevent his escape, but before they began the ascent 
of the stairs a commotion on the forward deck at- 
tracted the attention of the mate, and two of the crew 
came, leading, or rather carrying, a man between 
them. It was Billy Moon, whom they had discov- 
ered and aroused from his drunken sleep. Billy was 
still very drunk, but he recognized both Harry and 
the tramp. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


235 


Hello ! ” he said to Flynn. “ How’d you come 
here? Thought you’d gone t’ ze a man. Harry, 
this friend’s gen’l’man o’ mine. Firz rate feller. 
Treats like’z gen’l’man. Shake ! Come down t’ ze 
ye off ol’ feller. Good-bye, ” and he tried to shake 
hands with Harry, totally unconscious that the boat 
had left the wharf and was miles on her voyage up 
the river. 

Do you know this fellow?” asked the mate of 
Harry. 

“Yes,” replied the boy. “His name is Billy 
Moon. We traveled together on our way to Cincin- 
nati.” 

“What connection has he with this fellow?” re- 
ferring to Flynn. 

“I can’t tell,” said Harry. “I didn’t know that 
they had ever met.” 

“Perhaps he’s an accomplice,” said the mate. 

“No, I think not,” said Harry. “He is a good- 
natured, inoffensive fellow, an umbrella mender, who 
was very kind to me when I needed assistance, and I 
don’t think he knows the character of this man.” 

Billy was too drunk to stand steadily on his feet, 
and the men were obliged to support him. This by- 
play attracted the attention of the mate, as well as of 
the crew, and Flynn, taking advantage of their mo- 
mentary lack of vigilance, broke from those who held 


236 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


him, and, with one bound, sprang to the guards of 
the boat, and plunged into the river. “ Man over- 
board ! ” cried some one. The engineer, hearing the 
cry, stopped the engines ; a few hoarse words passed 
through the tubes extending between the engine- 
room and the pilot-house ; the pilot’s bell tingled, and 
the boat lay to. The mate meanwhile had sprung on 
the guards, revolver in hand, and stood peering out 
into the darkness, but the tramp was nowhere to be 
seen. As quickly as possible the yawl was manned 
and put off in search of the fugitive, but after rowing 
about in the darkness for some time it returned, and 
the crew reported that the man was not to be found. 

He has escaped or gone to the bottom of the 
river,” said the mate. 

The bell tingled again, the great arms of the engine 
rose and fell, the boat trembled again with the jar of 
escaping steam, and went foaming on her way up the 
river. 

Shortly after a man emerged from the river on the 
Ohio side and climbed the bank. He dashed the 
water from his face and hair, and shook his clenched 
hand at the receding boat. 

“He has escaped me,” he said. “But we will 
meet sometime when there is no one to interfere, and 
then, Harry Lawson, you will learn what it is to 
make an enemy of Black Flynn.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


237 


Having delivered himself thus he turned his face 
from the river, and walked away as rapidly as his 
drenched garments would permit. 

On the evening of his departure from Cincinnati a 
conversation of no small importance to Harry Law- 
son took place at Dr. Blair’s home. The doctor had 
just received an express package, brought from Ca- 
lusa by Mr. Gwin, and, greatly to the surprise of him- 
self and family, on opening it they beheld the lost 
watch. The doctor hastily compared the address on 
the package with the letter Harry had written before 
his flight from the farm house and which he had re- 
tained in his possession, and without a word he 
handed both to his wife. 

“They are the same,” said Mrs. Blair, in a startled 
whisper. 

“They are the same,” echoed the doctor. 

Carrie, who had observed this pantomine, now ap- 
proached and asked its meaning. At first her mother 
hesitated and glanced toward her husband. Dr. Blair 
nodded assent, and she placed both pieces of writing 
in her daughter’s hand. Carrie recognized the writ- 
ing at once, and her face flushed with eager joy as 
she exclaimed : 

“ It’s Harry’s writing ! Where is he ? Where did 
this watch come from ? ” 

“Yes, it is Harry’s writing,” said the doctor gravely. 


238 the man who tramps. 

‘ ‘ But the name of the station from which it came is of 
but little consequence since he is evidently trying to 
avoid us. What is of most importance to us now ap- 
pears to be how did he get possession of the watch. 

I have tried to believe in the boy, yet it seems that 
something is continually transpiring to shake my faith 
in his integrity. This watch, he asserted at the trial, 
was in the possession of the tramps. When he left 
us so mysteriously, I quieted my doubts by arguing 
that it was because he had lost the watch that he did 
not wish to meet me, and that he had fled under the 
influence of that dread. But the old woman, where 
he lay sick, told me that he had a watch when he 
came there, and that he had taken it away with him 
when he fled. This I did not tell you, for I feared to 
distress you. Although I could not but feel that the 
boy had deceived us all, yet I fought against the sus- 
picion, and tried to believe in him. And now that 
we have received it from his own hands after all this 
time, what can we think but that it was guilt which 
induced him to leave us, and that, smitten with re- 
morse for his evil deed, he has at last made the only 
reparation in his power by sending back the watch.” 

“Til not believe it,” said Carrie. “I know that 
there have been dark circumstances against him be- 
fore, and they were all cleared away. So will this be 
in time, I feel sure. I will never believe that Harry 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


239 


Lawson is a thief until I hear him acknowledge it 
with his own lips.” 

“ Well, I hope it is as you think,” said the doctor. 
“ But if it were not for my promise to Mr. Conover 
I would now abandon the search. What is the use 
of pursuing one who wishes to escape from our kind- 
ness, and who will not thank us for our exertions in 
his behalf?” 

“ Do not give him up yet,” said Mrs. Blair. “I 
know that this circumstance of the watch is a suspi- 
cious one, yet, like Carrie, I still believe that the 
boy is honest. I have reproached myself bitterly 
for my first doubts of his integrity, and I will not 
again listen to my suspicions until there is some- 
thing more definite than this. Let the detective 
start to-morrow, as has already been arranged, and 
endeavor to overtake the boy. If, then, when he is 
assured that he is welcome to our home, he still de- 
sires to remain away, I will have no more to say. 
But I can not feel satisfied until this mystery is 
cleared up.” 

Carrie gave her mother a look beaming with grati- 
tude. 

“ May he not have recovered the watch from the 
tramps?” she said. “May he not have followed 
them for this very purpose ? I will believe anything 
but that he is a thief. I know he is not that.” 


240 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Well, well,” said the doctor with a sigh, ‘'I will 
try to believe as you wish and will continue the 
search. I can not leave home myself, but Mr. Brown 
shall start as soon as possible.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE DETECTIVE ON THE TRAIL. 

When the case was laid before the detective he 
shook his head and looked puzzled. “ It will be a 
hard case to work up now/’ he said. “The boy has 
no doubt gone to Cincinnati ; but will he stay there ? 
That’s the question. I don’t believe he whl. He is 
evidently trying to get away from something or some- 
body, and my impression is that he will go on east. 
I remember that, in a conversation I had with him 
when bringing him here after his rescue from the 
tramps, he told me that his original intention, before 
he stopped with you, had been to reach the river and 
try to work his passage to Pittsburg. I have no 
doubt that he will now try to do this. The shortest 
way will be to go at once to Cincinnati and try to 
find out something about him from the boatmen on 
the river. It will be useless to stop at the station 
where he expressed the watch ; for, even if they no- 
ticed him, we can find out no more than we already 
know — that he has been there. I will start for Cin- 

i6 


242 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


cinnati to-morrow. I can not go to-day, and I doubt 
very much whether he has yet reached the city, 
although it is possible that he has. Do not expect 
too much from me, for I am not at all sanguine of 
success. I will do my best, however, and as soon 
as I have any definite information I will let you 
know.” 

Brown arrived at Cincinnati late in the evening of 
the following day, and, proceeding al once to the 
wharf, made inquiry on the various boats lying there. 
After several fruitless attempts he at length found a 
mate who remembered that, two nights before, a boy, 
answering the description of Harry Lawson, had en- 
deavored to get passage on his boat, but as he was 
not ready to sail, and, as he said, he “ didn’t want to 
be bothered with boys no how,” he had refused to 
take him. He remembered also that the boy was ac- 
companied by a small man, who, from the bundle he 
carried, was evidently an umbrella mender. This he 
remembered because the fellow had got in his way on 
the deck and he had run against the end of his bundle 
of handles. He did not know where they went. 
Hadn’t seen the boy since. Several boats had gone 
up the river since then, and he might have been on 
one of them. 

The detective walked away from the wharf in deep 
thought. It was now dark, and the lamps were 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


243 


lighted on the streets. As he was walking slowly 
along, he saw before him a man whose form appeared 
familiar. “I have seen that man somewhere,” said 
he to himself. “Where was it? Let me think.” 
He could not see the man's face, but, notwithstanding 
this, he at last succeeded in identifying him. “ That’s 
the tall tramp they call Black Flynn,” he thought. 
“ I remember him now. I saw him at Calusa during 
the preliminary trial of the tramps for the murder. 
He is the man who was the leading spirit of the cap- 
ture of the boy, and may now know where he is. 
I’ll watch him.” 

It was indeed our old acquaintance, the tramp, who 
failing in his scheme of vengence, had returned at 
once to the city. Brown followed him for several 
squares, when Flynn entered a saloon — the same to 
which the reader has been conducted before. The 
detective looked through the glass door. “That’s 
him sure enough,” he said; “but one would scarcely 
recognize him by his face. He has met with some 
kind of an accident lately that has marked him horri- 
bly.” 

Flynn did not stop long at the bar, but entered one 
of the stalls before alluded to, and ordered brandy 
and cigars. Brown now found an opportunity to en- 
ter the room without being discovered by the tramp, 
and sat down in another stall at some distance from 


244 


THE MAN WHO THAMES, 


him and ordered beer. His intention was to wait 
until Flynn left the room and then to follow him, in 
hopes that he might find some clue to the missing 
boy. Several others soon after entered the saloon, 
which appeared to be a place of resort for the vilest 
men of the city, and two or three entered the stall 
with Flynn, whom they seemed to know, and where 
they were soon engaged in a game of cards. The 
time dragged heavily to the detective, who was not 
close enough to hear much of the conversation among 
the men, except when, under the excitement of the 
game, they raised their voices to a high pitch. He 
was beginning to feel very much bored, when the 
bar-keeper called out : 

“ I say, Flynn, who was that little cove you was a 
treatin’ here night before last?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Flynn. “He was an 
umbrella mender, he said.” 

“Well, you got him as drunk as a biled owl, and 
he went off and left his traps here,” said the bar- 
keeper. “ He said he was goin’ down to the river to 
see somebody off. What’s come of him ? ” 

“How the d — 1 do I know?” said Flynn. “Fell 
into the river, as like as not.” The men laughed, 
and the game went on. 

It was late into the night before Flynn rose to go. 
Notwithstanding the frequent orders for brandy, which 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


245 


came from the stall he occupied, he appeared to be 
perfectly sober. He stopped at the bar, paid his bill, 
and, without observing the detective, left the room. 
When he was safely on the outside. Brown followed 
him. The tramp did not stop until he reached the 
Little Miami depot, which he entered, and the detect- 
ive saw him take his place on a train which was about 
to leave for the east. 

“ Well, if the boy is here he knows nothing about 
it,” said the detective to himself. “ I’ll wait and see 
if he leaves on the train, and if he does. I’ll have to 
tr}' some other dodge.” The train rolled out in a 
few minutes, bearing Flynn with it. 

Brown walked away pondering. He recalled the 
remark made by the bar-keeper about the umbrella 
mender, and putting this with the information he had 
obtained from the mate of the boat, he decided in his- 
own mind that Harry had found a passage up the 
river. Having come to this conclusion he determined 
to proceed to Pittsburg as soon as possible. 

“ If he has taken passage on a boat, I may yet 
reach Pittsburg before him, and meet him when he 
arrives,” thought he. He left Cincinnati the next 
morning, and, on reaching the smoky city, he re- 
paired at once to the principal steamboat landing and 
began his search. 

Here he found the boat on which Harry had taken 


246 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


passage, and learned from the mate a history of his 
adventures with the tramp, but the boy had left the 
boat immediately on its arrival, and had gone off in 
company with Billy Moon, the umbrella mender. 
The detective was much chagrined at his ill luck in 
being so near success, yet failing at last ; but he was 
a man not easily discouraged ; so, getting as minute 
a description of Harry’s companion as the mate 
could give him, he determined to make a thorough 
search of the city. “For,” thought he, “if he has 
a companion he may not leave the city at once, since 
it is probable that the two may, between them, man- 
age to get work enough to keep them. Then, this 
umbrella mender drinks, the mate says, unluckily 
for him, and for the boy, too, if he follows his exam- 
ple ; but, luckily for me, for you always know where to 
look for a drinker. ” But day after day passed on, and 
his search was still in vain. He had visited nearly 
every saloon in the city, night after night, but saw no 
one who answered the description of Billy Moon. 
He had enlisted the aid of the city police and detec- 
tives, but they were equally at fault. At last he was 
forced to conclude that Harry and his companion had 
left the city. One evening in the latter part of the 
second week in July, while walking along one of the 
streets leading over the river into Allegheny, he saw 
before him a man whom he thought he recognized. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


247 


He was a large, heavy man, with red hair and a 
loose, slouching gait, which he was confident he had 
seen before. Crossing the street he walked rapidly 
past him, and then pausing where he would be him- 
self partially concealed while the man would have to 
pass under the gaslight. Brown waited for him to 
approach. “Sandy Hines ! I knew it,” thought he. 
“ How did he come here ? ” 

His first impulse was to have the villain arrested, 
but on second thought he concluded to follow him. 

“I may find the boy by his means,” he thought. 
‘^Besides, if I don’t I’ve no time to bother with this 
fellow now, but I’ll keep my eye on him.” Soon af- 
ter crossing the river, Sandy left the street, and, 
turning down an alley, entered a low, dilapidated 
looking building from the door of which came the 
sound of many voices and the clinking of glasses, 
while the fumes of whisky and tobacco seemed to 
permeate the whole atmosphere in that vicinity. It 
was, in fact, a -low drinking house, and the resort of 
the worst class of men from both cities. The door 
was open, and, looking in, the detectives saw nearly 
a hundred men congregated in the room, which, not- 
withstanding its low and squalid front, was quite spa- 
cious. Brown entered the door, but kept at a dis- 
tance from Sandy, and, slouching his hat over his eyes 
so as partly to conceal his face, remained a spectator 


248 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


of the scene. On one side, near the door, was a bar, 
which appeared to be well patronized by the mem- 
bers of the assembly. The remainder of the room 
was probably used for a dancing hall, but on this oc- 
casion a meeting of more importance seemed to be 
in progress. A large table or counter was placed at 
the farther end, and, in front of this the larger part 
of the crowd was congregated, some sitting, some 
standing, as if waiting for the exercises to begin. A 
few among them looked like laboring men and me- 
chanics, but by far the greater number were tramps 
and street loafers, thieves and roughs. In short, it 
was one of those meetings into which respectable 
mechanics and laboring men occasionally permit them- 
selved to be inveigled, but which are a disgrace to the 
name of honest labor — an assembly of the riff-raff of 
city life, who so frequently take advantage of the 
wrongs which honest labor too often suffers to incite 
to riot, pillage and bloodshed. What a comment 
upon the intelligence of our country when they, who 
are the worst enemies the laboring man can have, are 
permitted in his name to bring reproach upon him by 
pretending to espouse his cause, only that they, 
amid the confusion and anarchy they incite, may profit 
at the expense of rich and poor alike. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE communists’ MEETING. 

Shortly after the detective entered the room a man 
sprang upon the counter and began to speak. His 
coat was off, his collar open, and he was perspiring 
more profusely than he had done in a score of years 
at honest labor. “ Feller citizens,” he said, “things 
has got to be changed. The rich has got to come 
down from their fine carriages that throw dust in the 
eyes of us poor laboring men, and take it afoot. 
We’ve stood just all we’re agoin’ to stand. What 
right has they, I’d like to know, to ride over us, and 
live in ease and idleness while we has to earn our 
living by the sweat of our brows. They don’t do 
nothin’ at all but just live on the fat of the land and 
insult laborin’ men. And them as does anything gits 
more in a day than the poor laborin’ man can earn in 
a week. I go in for makin’ things equal. One man 
is as good as another in this country — ” 

“And a d — d sight better,” shouted some one. 

The men laughed, and the speaker went on ; 


250 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ Don’t we love our wives and children jest as well 
as they do, and haint they jest as good a right to 
wear silks and satins and rings and sich, as the stuck 
up wives and daughters of the bloated monop’lists ? 
Of course they has, and we’re goin’ to have them, 
too. Look at the ware-houses and elevators full of 
grain in the city, and the poor a starvin’ for bread. 
Many a time I’ve gone home and found my wife and 
children a cryin’ for bread, and I hadn’t a nickel to 
buy it with.” 

“ Spent it all for beer,” said a voice. 

Some of the men laughed at this, and some cried 
^‘Puthimout! Put him out!” But no one seemed 
to know who had caused the interruption. The 
speaker proceeded again : 

“ I tell you the time has come at last to stop this 
thing. The hard-hearted Shylocks of this town are 
sleepin’ to-night over a powder mine that will blow 
them all to h — 11 some of these days. The workin’ 
men are goin’ to take this thing in hand, and when 
the fire’s lighted, it’ll be the biggest thing you ever 
saw. Then let every man help hisself to what comes 
handiest, and learn the rich that they can’t go on for- 
ever a suckin’ the blood of honest labor.” 

Here the speaker ceased, got down, put on his 
coat and went to the bar and took a drink. The 
bar-keeper raked the price of a loaf of bread into his 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


251 


till, and the drinker heaved a sigh, no doubt, for the 
wife and children whom he had so pathetically pic- 
tured as starving at home. The next speaker began 
by stating that he was from the oil regions. He had 
worked there a while, but he saw that he was only 
laboring to support the monopolists, and he had quit. 
He was now out of work and didn’t intend to strike 
a lick until the wages were raised so that he could 
earn a better living. He grew quite eloquent over 
the wrongs of the working man and closed by saying : 

“There is thousands and thousands of barrels of 
oil in the tanks up there now, and the men that own 
the wells say they can’t pay any higher wages be- 
cause they can’t sell the oil. I’ll tell you what they 
are a goin’ to do up there. Them tanks is a goin’ to 
take fire, some of these nights, and that oil is a goin’ 
up in smoke, and then we’ll see if there won’t be 
more demand for labor. That’s the way to deal 
with these capitalists. If they won’t pay you livin’ 
wages, why smoke ’em out. Them’s my sentiments. ” 

“Them” appeared to be the sentiments of the 
crowd, too, for this remark was greeted with vocifer- 
ous applause, under cover of which the speaker de- 
scended from his perch, and gravitating, like his 
predecessor, to the bar, drowned his wrongs in a 
whisky straight. 

If speaking was dry work, listening seemed no less 


252 '^he man who tramps. . 

so, for the bar-keeper was the busiest man in the 
room. He was, for the time at least, what the others 
were not, a laboring man. If the starving wives and 
children before alluded to were not myths, their pros- 
pects of speedy relief were by no means flattering, if 
such men as these were their only providers. When 
the next speaker mounted the table Brown started 
with surprise, for he at once recognized Black Flynn. 
The tramp glanced about over the assembled throng 
for a moment until all was still, and then raising his 
arm tragically, began : 

“I see before me men created in the image of God, 
whose hearts, at some time, have beat high with 
hope ; who have pictured to themselves a career of 
prosperity, ending in homes of peace and plenty ; 
who have dreamed of ease and honor, after years of 
honest endeavor ; men whose hands have grown cal- 
lous by contact with the implements of toil, and 
whose hearts, alas, have grown sore with suffering. 
Where are the hopes which lent such a roseate glow 
to the future? They lie in ashes on your hearts to- 
night, unless, indeed, they have been washed away 
in your tears. Where are the happy homes of your 
dreams? Behold them to-day. Gaunt famine sits 
crouched like a ghastly specter at their broken doors. 
Where is the wife for whom you would coin your 
heart’s blood into gold were it possible ? She sits at 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


253 


home to-night, haggard and pale, and hollow-eyed, 
praying for death ; or it may be, she has found that 
last rest of the broken-hearted poor — a pauper’s grave. 
Where are the children that were to be your pride 
and joy, the ornaments of your homes? Behold 
them, ragged and famine-stricken, growing up to ig- 
norance and vice, while you are powerless to avert 
their fate. Now look abroad over the wide land, 
groaning under its weight of food and wealth. Here 
are store- houses full of grain, but they are locked 
against you, and you and yours die of want in sight 
of plenty. Here are broad fields awaiting the hand 
of the tiller, but you dare not sow or reap, for others 
have been here before you and have monopolized the 
soil. The bounteous hand of heaven has showered 
blessings all over the land, but they have been grasped 
by a few, and the many must wait until it is doled 
out to them, a miserable pittance in pay for the labor 
of years of wretchedness. You have strength in your 
limbs ; you have courage in your hearts ; you vastly 
outnumber your oppressors; yet, you stand trem- 
bling before them, meekly begging permission to toil 
for what is as much yours as theirs. How long will 
you endure this ? Will you continue to be the slaves 
of those bloated tyrants, or will you rise, in very 
shame at your imbecility, and hurl them from their 
usurped possessions ? ” 


254 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“Yes! yes! Down with capital ! Down with the 
monopolists ! ” was the cry which followed these 
words, and, for a moment, the crowd swayed to and 
fro as if shaken by a mighty wind. Flynn continued: 

“To-day I passed a stately mansion in this city. 
Under an arbor in a spacious yard sat a woman — a 
lady — arrayed in splendor. In her lap she held a 
little dog, upon which she bestowed greater care 
than you can give your offspring. About her played 
two children, a boy and a girl, beautiful, healthful, 
richly clad and nurtured in every luxury. That was 
the home of one of the men who lord it over you 
and over me. The food is taken from the mouths of 
your children that his may revel in abundance. Your 
wife grows hollow-eyed and pallid that his may wear 
the bloom of beauty. Have you the souls of men 
left in your miserable bodies that you suffer this 
injustice? If you have one lingering spark of man- 
hood left in you, why do you submit to the rule 
of these men ? Do not you know that it is you 
who should rule the land? Do you not create its 
wealth ? Then why do you permit these harpies to 
monopolize it? Why will you longer sit down and 
weep, when every principle of manhood demands 
that you should act? The earthquake is coming 
which is to dash into chaos these monuments of in- 
iquity. You can hear its rumbling in the distance. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


255 


Soon you will hear the crash of falling houses and 
see the flames of burning cities. Then from the 
ruins will arise a fairer structure, founded upon the 
equality of all things. It is for you this great work 
is to be done. Are you willing to give it a helping 
hand?” 

" Yes ! yes ! ” and cries of “ That’s the talk ! ” 

‘ ‘ Are you ready to strike down the tyrants who 
have been treadiag on the hearts of those you love ? 
Are you ready to compel them to disgorge their ill- 
gotten gains, and to give you the just rewards of your 
labors ? ” 

“ Of course we is. Yes ! yes ! Bully for you ! ” 

“ Then wait with patience a few more days, and the 
opportunity will be given you. Let no squeamish 
notions of fancied honor withhold your hand. Strike, 
and strike home. Strike for your starving wives and 
children. Strike and spare not, until these vampires, 
gorged with the blood of their victims, lie crushed 
and suppliant before you.” 

Flynn descended amid a thunder of applause, and 
before the confusion died away, a little wiry man 
sprang upon the counter. He was more than half 
drunk, and could scarcely keep his balance. Seeing 
this, the crowd, anticipating fun, encouraged him to 
proceed. Brown ran over in his mind the description 
he had received of Harry’s companion, and he said to 


256 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


himself: “I have found him at last. That is cer- 
tainly Billy Moon.” 

It was indeed our jolly friend, the umbrella mender, 
who had strolled into the place, and, being just drunk 
enough to render him reckless, was about to reply to 
Flynn’s tirade. Perhaps if his audience had known 
in advance that his views were quite different from 
those of the previous speaker they might not have 
indulged him with a hearing. But Billy was in for a 
speech, and the crowd, as we have said, was in for 
fun. 

“The last gen’l’man as ’drest you talked about 
your wives and children. I’ll bet a nickel there 
hain’t half a dozen on ye what has got a wife, let 
alone the children. If you hev, you’d a darn sight 
better be with ’em, a nussin’ the baby, than to be 
here a talkin’ about earthquakes and Skylarks and 
sich things.” 

Here there were some angry cries of “Put him 
out ! ” but by far the larger number cried, “ Let 
him go on ! Hear ! Hear ! ” and other cries designed 
to encourage him. Billy went on. 

“You talk about starvin’. Well, how many of 
you fellers is a starvin’ ? Come, hold up your hands. 
You hain’t, hay ! Well, if you have wives and babies 
a starvin’, hain’t you ashamed of ypurselves? A 
loaf of bread don’t cost much more’n a glass of beer, 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


257 


and there’s not one of you hut’s drunk a dozen 
glasses to-night. How’s that for starvin’. I ’spect 
if these here Skylarks, or what you call ’em, spent 
their time a loafin’ round a drinkin’ beer and talkin’ 
about starvin’, they’d have hollow-eyed wives and 
sickly children too. I’m a hard lot myself, and I 
drinks my beer when I wants it and can git it, and I 
’spect it puts more color in my nose than nickels in 
my pocket, but I ain’t one of them fellers what be 
lieves that ’cause some feller’s rich that’s the reason 
I’m poor — not by a darn sight. Why don’t you go 
to work and — ” 

But here Billy was jerked violently from the 
counter by the keeper of the house, who said “ he’d 
not have his customers insulted any longer,” and 
Billy slipped through the crowd and out of the door, 
followed by the detective. 


17 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE DETECTIVE AND BILLY MOON. 

The detective overtook Billy Moon at the entrance 
to the alley and called him by name. 

“Well, that’s my name,” said the umbrella men- 
der. ” Who are you ? ” 

My name is Brown,” answered the detective. 

“ Well, your name sounds famil’ar like,” said Billy, 
who was in one of his jocular moods, for he was still 
chuckling to himself over the confusion he had caused 
at the meeting of the communists. “ ’Pears like I’ve 
heerd it afore, but I guess I don’t know you.” 

“ I want a few moments’ conversation with you,” 
said Brown. 

‘ ‘All right ! Go ahead ! ” 

“Not here. Let us go where we will not be inter- 
rupted.” 

The detective led the way down the street until 
they came to an eating-house, into which he was 
followed by Billy, and the two seated themselves at 
a table, apart from the other occupants of the place. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 259 

Now, go ahead,” said Billy. ” What do you 
want? ” 

“ Where is Harry Lawson?” asked Brown. 

Billy looked startled, and did not reply for a mo- 
ment. He recalled Harry’s adventure with the tramp, 
and, although the boy had never taken him fully into 
his confidence, he believed that he had enemies from 
whom he was trying to escape, and he hesitated to 
answer for fear of betraying him into the hands of 
those who sought to do him an injury. At length he 
said : 

“ Harry Lawson ? Who’s he ? ” 

“ Now, Billy,” said the detective, “there’s no use 
trying to fool me. I know all about it. Didn’t you 
come to Cincinnati together? Didn’t he get passage 
on a steamboat ; and didn’t you get drunk and lose 
your kit, and stagger on the boat and go to sleep, 
and get carried away without knowing it? I know 
all about it, you see; the boy’s escape from the 
tramp, and all.” 

“Well, what then?” said Billy. “Is that any 
sign I know where he is now? ” 

“ But I am convinced you do know, or you would 
say so at once. ” 

“ Well, s’pose I do ? What you goin’ to do about 
it?” 

“ Come, Billy, you are a friend to the boy, I know, 


260 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


for I have heard something of it from the mate of the 
boat.” 

“And what be you?” asked Billy. “ What you 
after him for? How do I know you haint one of the 
set as is a tryin’ to hound the boy down ? The same 
what he’s been a tryin’ to git away from ?” 

“ I assure you I am his friend,” said Brown. “ I 
am sent by his best friends to find and take him 
home.” 

But the boy don’t want to go back, and I’m not 
a-goin’ to give him away. That’s not my style,” 
said Billy. 

“You don’t understand this thing, Billy,” said 
Brown. “The boy is laboring under a mistake. At 
least his friends think so ; and they believe that if 
they can find him it will all be cleared up, and he 
will be glad to go back again. If you wish to be- 
friend him you can not do him a better turn than to 
take me to him.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Billy. “S’pose 
you do see the boy, and he don’t want to go back. 
What then ? ” 

“I promise you, on the honor of a man, that if, 
after his friends have found him, and conversed with 
him, he still refuses to return, they will not try to re- 
strain his actions. You know where he is, I am sure. 
Go to him and tell him that I am here, sent by Dr. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


261 


Blair to find him. Tell him that his un — no, I’ll tell 
him that when I see him. Tell him that his friends 
are anxious for his return, and that I am ready to 
take him back at once. Then bring me his answer.” 

” Well, that sounds all fair and square,” said Billy, 
pondering. ” Where’ll I see you ? ” 

“At the Seventh Avenue Hotel. Then you do 
know where he is?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then tell him what I have said, and bring him 
with you in the morning.” 

“That can’t be did. He’s sick abed.” 

“ Sick! ” 

‘‘Yes; he was took bad the first night after we got 
here. Took with a fever, they say, and was ravin’ 
crazy for three days. You see, he had a sick spell 
back in Injiany, and liked to died, I guess, and he 
started out afore he was quite well, and sleepin’ out 
at night, and may be this tramp business on the boat 
had somethin’ to do with it ; so he took down agin. 
Got a back-set, you see. When we got off’n the 
boat we begun to look about for work, and got a job 
to help load some coal oil, and worked at it till night, 
but I seed the boy was about played out, and I went 
and hunted up a boardin’ house for him, and he’s 
there now, too weak to git up, and won’t be out for 
a week yit, the doctor says.” 


262 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS, 


“You had a doctor, then?” 

“Of course we did. D’ye s’pose I’s a goin’ to let 
the little chap lay there and die ’thout help ? That’s 
not my style. I hadn’t much money, that’s a fact, 
but I found a doctor that agreed to see him cheap, 
and I managed to work ’round and git enough to pay 
for his medicine and keepin’.” 

“And you have done this for one who was an en- 
tire stranger to you?” exclaimed Brown, looking at 
the little umbrella mender with greater interest than 
before. He began to like the fellow. 

“Well, what o’ that? Not so much stranger, 
neither. Didn’t we travel together all the way from 
Injiany? D’ye think I was goin’ to throw off on him 
when he got down so he couldn’t help hisself? 
That’s not my style. Besides, I’d nothin’ else to do, 
and I ’spect I’d been drunk half the time if it hadn’t 
been for takin’ care of the boy. I was a gittin’ on a 
kind of a spree to-night, and was purty considerable 
how-come-ye-so when you seed me ; but I wouldn’t 
a got down as long as he’s not able to help hisself.’" 

“You are a good fellow, Billy Moon. Give me 
your hand,” said Brown. Billy extended his hand, 
and the detective grasped it heartily. “You will 
lose nothing by your kindness to this poor, sick boy. 
He has friends who are able and willing to reward 
you.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


263 

“ I don’t want none o’ their reward. I done what 
I ’spect he’d a done for me if I’d been sick and him 
well,” said Billy. “I haint a fishin’ for no reward. 
That’s not my style.” 

” Is the boy in good hands while you are absent ? ” 
asked Brown. 

“The best kind,” answered Billy. “The boardin’ 
house is kept by a widder woman, who’s a motherly 
old body, and she tuck to the boy right off. She 
cried over him, and petted him up when he was a 
ravin’ so with the fever, and she sot by him and 
fanned him, and tuk care of him like his own mother.” 

“Why can you not take me to him to-night?” 
asked Brown. 

“I s’pose I might; but, you see. I’ve nothin’ but 
your word for this business, and you’re a stranger; so 
I guess I’ll see the boy first.” 

The detective did not urge the matter further, and 
permitted Billy to depart alone, after first exacting a 
promise from him to meet him at the Seventh Ave- 
nue Hotel next morning. True to the instinct of his 
profession, however, he followed the umbrella men- 
der at a distance. Billy re-crossed the river into 
Pittsburg, and proceeded toward the heart of the city, 
as if unconscious of being followed. Directly he en- 
tered a saloon, and Brown paused to wait until he 
should come out ; but Billy did not even stop at the 


264 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


bar for a drink, but passed out at the back door into 
an alley, and thence into another street, thus effect- 
ually throwing the detective off his track. 

“ He can’t come none of his detective dodges on 
me,” chuckled Billy. “That’s not my style.” 

Brown grew tired of waiting, and approached the 
door of the saloon and looked in. A single glance 
sufficed to show him how he had been tricked, and 
he gave up the idea of trying to find Harry that 
night, and proceeded at once to his hotel. 

Billy dodged from one street to another for awhile, 
to effectually baffle his pursuer, should he still con- 
tinue to follow, and at last entered a small though 
neat two-story frame building on Twenty-eighth street, 
near the tracks of the Pennsylvania railroad. 

The umbrella mender made his appearance at the 
appointed place next morning, and conducted the 
detective to Harry Lawson. The boy had, indeed, 
passed through a severe attack of fever, and lay on 
his bed, pale and emaciated, with scarcely strength 
to extend his hand to grasp that of the officer. He 
now learned for the first time the extent of Flynn’s 
villainy, for when he was informed that Dr. Blair did 
not write the note which had sent him forth a home- 
less wanderer again, he at once attributed the forgery 
to the right source. He was greatly surprised to 
learn that his uncle, of whom he had had no previous 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


265 


knowledge, was also in search of him, and his heart 
went out in gratitude to the friends who had done so 
much for him under so many discouraging and sus- 
picious circumstances, and he longed to return to 
them as soon as possible. 

The detective consulted the doctor who had been 
attending him, and was told that it would not be safe 
to remove him in less than a week. Brown therefore 
telegraphed to Dr. Blair that the boy was found and 
would start for home as soon as it was safe for him 
to travel. Dr. Blair dispatched the good tidings at 
once to Mr. Conover, who set out immediately for 
Pittsburg. 

Thus it appeared that the troubles of our fugitive 
were over, and that all his most sanguine expecta- 
tions were about to be realized. His heart was full 
of joy and thankfulness, and the anticipation of the 
happiness that seemed in store for him did more to- 
ward his recovery than all the skill of his kind-heart- 
ed physician. Yet occasionally a shudder would pass 
through his frame, when he remembered that Black 
Flynn, his mortal enemy, was still at large, and had 
sworn to destroy him. He had learned from the de- 
tective that the tramp was then in the city, and, in 
spite of the bright prospects before him, he could 
not shake off a premonition of approaching danger, 
which haunted him and poisoned his happiness. And 


266 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


Harry Lawson had cause to fear. Flynn was not a 
man to be easily foiled in his schemes of vengeance, 
and before the boy lay a danger more terrible than 
any through which he had yet passed. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE RIOT AT PITTSBURG. 

In the meantime a storm was gathering over the 
land which was soon to burst in flames, in pillage and 
in bloodshed. It is not within the scope of this work 
to discuss the causes which led to the great railroad 
strike of 1877. That the railroad employes had 
grievances, many and heavy, is not to be denied. 
That their employers believed themselves to be in 
the right is equally probable. But had the two in- 
terested parties been left to settle their difliculty 
without the interference of vicious meddlers, there 
would have been no destruction of property ; no 
bloodshed ; no anarchy. The laboring men of this 
country — the true workingmen, not the pretenders 
who disgrace the name — are too intelligent to engage, 
as a body, in any such scenes of riot and mob vio- 
lence. It is the irresponsible floating populace, who 
have no home ties to bind them to society ; the 
vicious, who seek to plunder and destroy ; the out- 
casts of all nations who drift upon our shores and 


268 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


fasten upon the industries of our country like barnacles 
to the bottom of a ship^ in short, that great Ameri- 
can institution “The Man who Tramps,” who, watch- 
ing for every opportunity to profit by the contest 
between labor and capital, commits deeds of violence 
in the name of workingmen only that he may plun- 
der from rich and poor alike. Among the many 
problems which require the exercise of wise legisla- 
tion this is of greatest importance, at the present 
time, to the welfare of this country. 

What is to be done with the Man Who Tramps? 
In no other country has this nuisance — nay this ter- 
ror — assumed such gigantic proportions. In no other 
country is it possible for this element of society to en- 
danger the life of a nation, for, in no other country, 
France, perhaps, excepted, is he placed on an equal- 
ity, politically, with the best citizens of the country. 
And all must confess that it throws into our political 
economy an element of danger, when it places on an 
equality the real citizen, whose interests are indissol- 
ubly connected with the prosperity of the country, 
and those who have no part or concern in its welfare. 
It places in the hands of designing men a weapon 
which they can wield for the conquest of wrong over 
right, when the worthless tramp, this man without a 
home and desiring none; this leech upon the veins of 
industry; this ulcer upon the body politic, is permit- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


269 


ted to approach the ballot-box with the honest, in- 
dustrious mechanic and working man, and cast the 
venal vote which defeats his will. Nor is it into our 
political economy alone that this virus has been in- 
jected. Its influences reach us in our domestic life. 
Emboldened by the weakness or laxity of the law, the 
tramp has grown insolent and aggressive. Does not 
the blush of shame mantle our cheeks when we are 
told that in this land of the free and the home of the 
brave our wives and daughters live in constant terror 
of assault by these unprincipled and desperate vaga- 
bonds ? The homes of the pioneers, surrounded by a 
wilderness, harboring ravenous wolves and skulking 
savages, were not more unsafe than our homes of to- 
day, under the shadows of our school houses and 
church spires. How long will our legislators close 
their ears to the cries of violated innocence ? How 
long must the blood of slaughtered helplessness ap- 
peal to their hearts in vain ? Just as long as political 
tricksters are permitted to profit by the votes of this 
element of venality. Shame — burning, damning 
shame — brand the brow of him who would seek ad- 
vancement by such means. 

The press, the great educator of the people, the 
real shaper of public sentiment, is strangely, culpably 
silent upon this subject. It is true that it startles us- 
with glaring head-lines and graphic and ghastly de- 


270 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


scriptions of the crimes perpetrated by these fiends, 
and our blood runs cold at the terrible recital. Ap^e 
in its helplessness, butchered with worse than savage 
barbarity ; beauty and innocence violated with worse 
than brutish lust; and writers depict these terrible 
scenes with all the power of dramatic talent, but who 
among them all has wielded his pen against the 
source of this evil, or called upon our legislators to 
enact such laws as will effectually free the land from 
this worse than Egyptian leprosy ? 

It is not the province of this story to depict the 
darker and more damnable deeds of these fiends. It 
is needless to weave into romance the ghastly reali- 
ties enacting in our very midst every day. Nor is it 
the intention of the author to dictate any line of 
policy looking to the abatement of this evil. But 
should these pages haply come to the notice of any 
one intrusted with the duty of framing our laws, to 
him he would say: All the principles of justice; all 
the dictates of humanity ; your duty to the constitu- 
ency who have honored you with your preferment ; 
demand that you should act promptly and efficiently 
in this matter. Let no considerations of policy, that 
curse of American legislation, induce you to remain 
silent and close your eyes and ears to this crying evil. 
He would ask you to remember that the only safety 
of a free country is in strict adherance to the laws. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


271 


As long as a free people are properly protected in 
their rights, the perpetuity of our institutions is as- 
sured. But weak and venal legislation lays the 
foundation of anarchy, and mob violence, which is 
becoming so frequent in our land, is the natural out- 
growth of the imbecility of the laws. Men will not 
see their property destroyed, their dearest friends 
murdered and their homes violated, and patiently 
await the action of a law which, when it punishes at 
all, inflicts a penalty by no means commensurate with 
the offense. 

Let the law be our safety in fact as well as in 
name, and the blessings of the helpless and the inno- 
cent will be your reward. 

But this is a digression. 

The morning of Saturday, July 21, 1877, dawned 
at Pittsburg upon a scene of tumult. The streets 
were filled with excited men, and loud threats and 
denunciations were heard on every hand. The great 
railroad strike, which had been in progress several 
days throughout the country, had reached this place, 
and the railroad employes had ceased to work, and 
the city was full of idle men. And worse than that, 
among the crowd, waiting for the threatened outbreak, 
in order to plunder and destroy, or urging the strik- 
ers to deeds of violence, were hundreds of tramps 
from all parts of the country. There was the lazy. 


272 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


shiftless vagabond, the rough and the loafer, the 
pickpocket and the burglar, the highwayman and the 
incendiary — in short, representatives from all depart- 
ments of the great fraternity of tramps. These men 
mingled with the crowd, watching for an opportunity 
to inaugurate just such a scene as actually occurred 
later in the day. Black Flynn was there, passing 
from one group to another, making inflammatory ap- 
peals to the passions^ of the crowd, and prompting 
them to deeds of violence. 

Nor was he alone in this work. Other agitators of 
the commune were there, busy in trying to incite the 
populace to riot. Sandy Hines was there, also, with 
hundreds of his ilk, waiting for an opportunity to 
employ his peculiar talents. The majority of the 
railroad men merely laughed at the bombastic ap- 
peals of these vicious agitators, for they had no 
quarrel with society, and did not care to invoke the 
demon of anarchy, which would bring as much in- 
jury upon themselves as upon their employers. But 
there were many who listened to these specious argu- 
ments, and sympathized with these pernicious doc- 
trines, until they were ripe for violence. 

As the day passed on the crowd was augmented 
by numbers of miners and laborers from the oil re- 
gions. and the excitement increased, especially when 
it was rumored that troops from Philadelphia were 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


273 


marching to disperse the crowd. The excitement ap- 
peared to center about the buildings of the Pennsyl- 
vania railroad, and there was assembled a dense mass 
of the populace, many of them, however, mere idle 
spectators of the scene. 

About three o’clock the cry was passed: “The 
soldiers are coming ! The soldiers are coming ! ’’ and 
in a few minutes the head of the column appeared on 
Twenty-eighth street, the sheriff of Allegheny county 
and his posse marching in front. Notwithstanding 
the violent appeals of Flynn and others of his class, 
no overt act was committed until the Black Hussars 
of Philadelphia attempted to clear the crossing, when 
the storm which had been long threatening burst over 
the devoted city. The troops were assailed with 
stones and clubs, and many of them were knocked 
down, and some were severely wounded. It was not 
in the nature of men with arms in their hands to 
calmly endure such a fusillade, and they fired a vol- 
^ ley into the struggling mass of humanity which filled 
the crossing and covered the hillside above it. The 
effects of this fire were terrible, and drove the rioters 
wild with frenzy. They assailed the troops with such 
weapons as they could seize, and drove them before 
them to the round house, where they took refuge 
from the infuriated mob. Here they were surroun- 

i8 


{ 


274 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


ded by a hooting and yelling crowd, who threatened 
to destroy them. 

Then began a scene of terror and devastation. 

Gun stores were pillaged, and the rioters even cap- 
tured a battery and placed it on the heights near the 
round-house. The railroad here passes through a 
long, narrow valley, and the numerous tracks were 
crowded with cars laden with all kinds of goods, 
delayed by the strike. Not less than three thousand 
cars were collected here, many of them loaded with 
oil. Most of these cars were broken open and 
plundered. Busiest among the maddened crowd 
were Black Flynn and Sandy Hines, the former incit- 
ing the mob to deeds of greater violence and the 
latter loading himself with valuable articles taken 
from the cars, which he, with numerous others, had 
broken open with axes. 

In the meantime the torch had been applied to the 
plundered cars, and, as daylight died away, a surging 
stream of fire rolled for twenty blocks through that 
narrow gorge, and night hung above the city almost 
unheeded amid the glare of the flames. The night 
passed on in tumult and horror. The boom of can- 
non burst upon the already terror-laden air, and told 
that the mob were firing upon the soldiers in the 
round-house. This was answered by a sharp, quick 
rattle of musketry from the besieged, and the hor- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


275 


rors of battle were added to the horrors of fire. The 
union depot added its flames to this holocaust to the 
Man Who Tramps, and the ringing of bells, the sul- 
len boom of the cannon, the roar of the flames and 
the cries of the excited mob combined to make a 
scene unrivaled in the history of civilization. 

The rioters having run six burning cars against the 
round-house, the troops were forced to evacuate their 
place of refuge, and, with their muskets presented, 
and their fingers upon the triggers, they marched 
through the crowd, which fell back before them, and 
permitted them to escape to the fields and woods 
near East Liberty, after first vainly attempting to se- 
cure .shelter at the arsenal. The city was left to the 
rule of the mob, and the work of destruction went on. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

During this time Harry Lawson lay in an upper 
room in the house already mentioned, almost in the 
midst of this scene of confusion and destruction. He 
was still too weak to leave his bed, and Billy Moon 
sat for a time at the window, which opened from his 
room upon the street, and reported to him the pro- 
gress of events, as he beheld them enacted before 
him. ^But Billy was too restless to remain long a 
passive spectator of the stirring scene, and Harry, 
observing his evident wish to descend to the street, 
urged him to go, as there was no danger in his re- 
maining alone. Although several houses further 
down the street had been burned, Billy did not fear 
that the fire would reach the one in which Harry lay, 
and needed little persuasion to induce him to descend 
and mingle with the crowd which surged through 
the street. The umbrella mender found it easy to 
join the crowd, but not so easy to detach himself 
from it when he wished to return, for he was 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


277 


hemmed in by the struggling mass, and borne irre- 
sistably along with it, until he was far removed from 
his friend. Harry lay for a long time, listening to 
the tumult in the streets, the roar of the flames, 
which were now quite audible, and the report of fire- 
arms, which occasionally sounded above the general 
uproar. The flames, meantime, drew nearer and 
nearer, and the woman who kept the house fled with 
her neighbors in terror from the approaching destruc- 
tion, too fear-stricken to think of the helpless boy, 
who lay unconscious of his danger. The flames 
reached the house and flashed over its roof as if it had 
been tinder. Harry was not aware that the house was 
on fire until the burning rafters began to give way, and 
the blazing beams crashed through the ceiling of the 
room he occupied. Then, realizing his peril, he sum- 
moned all his strength, and crawled from his bed to 
the window, and called feebly for help. A vast 
crowd surged backward and forward in the street, ap- 
parently unconscious of the conflagration almost above 
their heads, for all were so intent upon the mighty 
fires of the large railroad buildings that the burning 
of a single house appeared to them a thing of little 
importance. But his cries were heard at last, and 
several men started to his rescue. Foremost among 
them was Black Flynn, who was passing at the mo- 
ment and recognized the boy as he leaned from the 


278 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


window. Flynn entered the door and sprang up the 
stairs. A second after, a wiry little fellow, without 
his hat, and out of breath with struggling through 
the crowd, sprang after him. Harry, exhausted by 
the efforts he had made, sank on the floor by the win- 
dow. He heard some one enter the room, and, turn- 
ing his head, beheld Flynn approaching him with a 
knife in his hand. 

“I’ve got you now, you young viper,” hissed the 
tramp. “ I’ll settle all our scores now, d — n you ! ” 

Harry closed his eyes and uttered a prayer. He 
heard the sound of another step in the room, then a 
blow and a heavy fall, and, opening his eyes, he be- 
held Flynn lying upon the floor among the burning 
timbers from the ceiling, and Billy Moon standing 
over him with a chair in his hand. 

“No you don’t,” said Billy. ^‘You’ll not murder 
the young chap while I’m around. That’s not my 
style.” 

Almost immediately another man entered, and 
Harry recognized the detective. The two men lifted 
him tenderly in their arms and bore him from the 
room, just in time, for the rear part of the roof had 
fallen in, and the flames were leaping about the door 
as they passed. Scarcely had they begun their de- 
scent when a wall of fire closed between them and 
the room they had just left. On the stairway they 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


279 


were met by a stout, gray-headed gentleman, who 
asked anxiously : 

“ Is he hurt?” 

“ No,” said Billy. “ I’s just in time, though.” 

“ Thank God ! ” said Mr. Conover, as they hurried 
down the stairs. In the street he continued : “ Carry 
him beyond this howling mob, and find a carriage, if 
possible. We will take care of you now, my boy.” 

As they left the scene of the fire a loud cry caused 
them to turn, and there, at the open window, almost 
surrounded by the flames, which had now cut off all 
hope of escape, stood Black Flynn, with fear and 
horror depicted on his face. The crowd had surged 
away from the burning building in anticipation of its 
fall. Flynn gazed forth for a moment, and then 
sprang upon the window sill as if to leap into the 
street below, but scarcely had his feet touched the 
frame when the whole roof fell in with a crash, and 
he was carried with the blazing timbers into the gulf 
of fire. 

That’s the end of him,” said Billy. “I’m amost 
sorry we left him there, but I forgot all about him, 
I’s so anxious to get the boy out.” 

“ He deserved his fate,” said the detective. “Yet 
I would not have left him to die such a death if there 
had been time to save him, but the fire was at our 
heels as we came down the stairs.” 


280 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“ I am sorry for him,” said Harry, faintly. They 
at length succeeded in getting clear of the mob, and, 
entering a carriage, which they were lucky enough 
to find near by, were driven to the hotel where the 
detective was stopping. Here Harry learned that 
his uncle, Mr. Conover, had only just reached Pitts- 
burg, having come on a train with soldiers, which 
had been stopped by the strikers at a station several 
miles from the city, and he had been compelled to 
finish his journey by private conveyance. He had 
proceeded at once to the hotel where the telegram 
had informed him he should find the detective. The 
latter was luckily in, and the two had hurried at once 
to the house on Twenty eighth street, arriving just 
in time to assist in the rescue of the boy. 

‘"Still, we would have been too late, had it not 
been for this brave fellow,” said Mr. Conover. 

“Yes, it was a close shave,” said Billy. “I got 
mixed up in the crowd, and come purty near not 
gettin’ back at all. I saw that tramp feller when he 
run into the house, and I knowed him at onct ; and, 
thinks I, Billy, pull out, or the young chap’s a goner. 
I wasn’t a minute too soon, neither ; for, if he hadn’t 
stopped to talk to the boy, he’d a killed him afore'l 
got there.” 

“ You are a good fellow, Billy Moon,’’ said the de- 
tective, “ Harry Lawson owes his life to you to-day.” 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


281 


“And I am very grateful,” said Harry, extending 
his hand from the couch on which he lay. Billy took 
the offered hand and said ; 

“There, never mind that. What ’ve I done. I’d 
like to know, more’n anybody’d a done ? I promised 
to take care of the boy, and I wasn’t agoin’ to see 
him murdered by no tramp while I’m around. 
That’s not my style.” 

“ My dear fellow,” said Mr. Conover, taking the 
umbrella mender by the hand, “you shall never re- 
gret your action this day. What do you follow ? ” 

“Well, most anything,” said Billy. “I’maum- 
breller mender, and work at that most of the time ; 
but I lost my kit at Cincinnati, and I ’spect I’ll have 
to knock ’round at somethin’ else till I git another.” 

“ Is there anything you particularly desire ! ” asked 
Mr. Conover. 

“Which?” 

Is there anything in which I can help you ? ” 

“Well, I don’t know,” said Billy, “less you’d like 
to give me another kit. Though I don’t ask it, mind 
you ; and, if you do. I’ll pay you back as soon as I 
make the money.” Mr. Conover smiled, and, ap- 
proaching the bed where Harry lay, entered into con- 
versation with him in a low tone. After several min- 
utes he turned to Billy. 

“I have been consulting with Harry,” he said. 


282 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


“and we have concluded to take you with us, if you 
will go, and give you better employment than mend- 
ing umbrellas. You have saved the life of my 
nephew, and it is but right that yours, henceforth, 
should be made as easy and happy as we can render 
it. Will you go?” 

Billy studied for a moment, then he said: 

“Well, boss, I know you mean what you say, and 
I’m much obliged to you, but Billy Moon would be 
like a fish out of water at your fine house, and he’d 
only be in your way. Besides, I’d be drunk half the 
time, I ’spect, for I never could hit a soft snap and 
keep sober, and then you’d wish you’d let me go my 
way. No, it’d never do. I’m a reg’lar vagerbon’, 
and I ’spect I’ll never be anything else. When a 
chap spends the best part of his life a wanderin’ 
round, and never settles down to anything, it’s hard 
to break him of it. I’d git the blues, and then I’d 
either git drunk or run away and take to the road 
agin. If you’re a mind to give me a new kit, all 
right, but you can’t make anything but a vagerbon’ 
out’n Billy Moon, if you’d try. Its not my style.” 

All their persuasion was unavailing, and all they 
could induce him to take was a small sum of money 
to replace his lost “kit.” 

Monday morning came, and the fury of the mob 
had spent itself, and a feeling of terror filled the 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


283 


hearts of many who beheld the desolate track of the 
fiery ruin. Heavy-hearted mechanics and artisans 
stood about the smoldering embers of their work- 
shops, and looked gloomily forward to months of 
forced idleness, when they had not the means to live 
for a week. Some of them, wrought upon by the in- 
flammable eloquence of vicious men, had assisted in 
the work of destruction which took the bread from 
the mouths of their wives and babes, but now that the 
excitement was over, and the result of their madness 
lay before them in all its black and stern reality, 
they inwardly cursed the folly which had led them to- 
expect benefit from the wanton destruction of their 
means of subsistence. 

The riot was over, and the tramping fraternity re- 
sumed their occupation of wandering, begging, and 
pilfering, waiting until another such commotion 
should give them a chance to profit by the rashness 
of well-meaning but unthinking men, whose mis- 
guided efforts to ameliorate the misery of their lot 
only result in favor of the tramps, the thieves, the 
outcasts of society, who always seek such opportuni- 
ties to follow their calling of plunder. 

There is one character who has played a prominent 
part in this drama who must not be overlooked in its 
conclusion, and, although it will be anticipating the 
course of events somewhat, I will dispose of him 


284 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


here, in order that the closing scene may not be 
marred by the record of his fate. When the rabble 
of vagrants dispersed Sandy Hines left Pittsburg and 
returned to Indiana. 

One evening he stopped at a toll house to beg for 
something to eat, and saw a woman hastily rake a 
pile of money she had apparently been counting at a 
small table into a drawer as if to conceal it from the 
sight of the tramp. She refused to give him food, 
and he left, but did not go far. He concealed him- 
self in a corn field near by, from which place he could 
see all that transpired at the house, and he satisfied 
himself that it was occupied by an old man and a 
woman, who was probably his daughter. Having 
ascertained that there were no other occupants of the 
house, he resolved to return in the night and rob 
them of the toll money, which the woman had so in- 
cautiously exposed to his evil gaze. 

After all was still and the travel on the road had 
ceased for the night, he stole up to the house to re- 
connoiter. The lights were out and the people 
were evidently asleep. He found an ax leaning 
against the house, and with this he raised the window 
of the room where he had seen the money until the 
fastenings gave way, and, climbing in, he endeavored 
to burst oflf the lid of the small table containing the 
money. This was a more difficult task than he an- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


285 


ticipated, and the inmates were aroused. The old 
man came to the door of the room, and, seeing the^ 
robber at his work, cried loudly to his daughter and 
seized Sandy by the arms. It was but the feeble 
grasp of age, however, and the burly ruffian tore 
himself loose and dealt the old man a savage blow 
on the head with the blade of the ax. His victim 
sank down upon the floor just as the daughter 
ran into the room. With one blow of the ax the 
tramp shattered the frail receptacle of the money, 
and, seizing the latter, escaped through the window, 
while the poor woman was screaming over the body 
of her dead father. 

Before morning the whole neighborhood was 
aroused, and hundreds of excited and determined 
men were in pursuit of the villain. In the afternoon 
of the next day he was captured in an old unused 
barn, several miles from the scene of the tragedy. 
He was taken into the presence of the woman, who- 
at once recognized him as the murderer of her father, 
and from thence he was conveyed to the nearest 
county town and lodged in jail. 

But he was not destined to pass through the ex- 
citement of another trial, nor to again become the sub- 
ject of woman’s sympathy nor man’s mistaken charity. 
That night a hundred masked men surrounded the 
jail, the doors were broken in, and the prisoner 


286 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


dragged forth and hurried away from the town. 
Those who were aroused by the noise of the passing 
crowd heard the deep, hoarse voice of a man in 
deadly terror, pleading for his life, but his petition 
was received in grim silence. His captors conveyed 
him to the nearest wood and there improvised a gal- 
lows, by throwing a rope over the limb of a tree, 
and, amid his howls and shrieks for mercy, he was 
dragged up by the neck and left, a black-faced and 
ghastly apparition, to frighten into silence the morn- 
ing songs of the birds. 



CHAPTER XXV. 


CONCLUSION. 

Patient reader, the story is nearly told. It only 
remains to write the happy conclusion. As soon as 
railroad travel re-opened our friends left Pittsburg on 
their homeward journey. As they were boarding 
the train which was to convey Harry from the scene 
of his last terrible adventure, they saw Billy Moon, 
who had come to say good-by. The umbrella mender 
had provided himself with a new kit of tools in a bright 
tin box, and carried his accustomed bundle of old 
handles and wires, which he had, somehow, con- 
trived to collect. He was, for a wonder, perfectly 
sober, and in the jolliest of humors. Our friends 
took him kindly by the hand, and again expressed 
their gratitude for his services to Harry. Mr. Con- 
over renewed his offer to provide Billy with a home 
and better employment, and Harry joined earnestly 
in entreating him to accompany them, but he said : 

“It’s kind of you to think of a poor chap like me, 
and I’ll not forget it. It’ll be a good thing to think 


288 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


of, that Billy Moon, the vagerbon’, has some good 
friends, but it’d never do ; it’s not my style. I know 
myself better’n you do. I couldn’t live no other way 
but like I’ve been a doin’. It’d kill me to have to 
stay round in one place all the time. I’d want to be 
out on the road agin in less than a week. Le’s say 
no more about it. Good-by, Harry, my boy. When 
you’re in your fine home, with all your friends about 
you to love and take care of you, don’t forget the 
time when you and Billy Moon paddled along the 
road together, not knowin’ where we was a goin’ to 
sleep at night; and don’t forget that there’s many a 
poor feller what hasn’t had no chance in life, and 
may be it’s not his fault that he’s not fit for nothin’ 
’cept jest to wander from place to place, like Billy 
Moon, with no friends and no home. Good-by, and 
thank you all.” 

It was useless to press him further. The/ shook 
him kindly by the hand and entered the cars. As 
the train moved off Harry looked from the window 
and saw him standing where they had left him, gaz- 
ing after them with as near a look of melancholy as 
ever came into his good-natured face. 

On the evening of one of the last days of July 
Mrs. Blair and her daughter sat on the porch in front 
of the house, awaiting the return of the doctor, who 
had gone in the carriage to Calusa. There was more 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


289 


anxiety depicted on their countenances, especially 
that of Carrie, than the mere fact of the doctor’s 
absence seemed to warrant. In short, they had that 
day received a dispatch, announcing that Mr. Cono- 
ver, the detective and Harry would arrive at Calusa 
by the evening train, and it was the anticipation of 
meeting him, to whom she had yielded up all the 
wealth of her pure young heart, that gave the bright 
flush to Carrie’s cheeks and the expectant though 
softened light to her eyes. She had been torturing 
herself with all sorts of dismal fancies during the day. 
She remembered that no words of love had passed 
between them. There had been nothing but that 
sweet intuition which inclines young hearts together, 
yet plainer than words had been this mutual revela- 
tion of their unspoken love, and during all the time 
of their separation their souls had yearned toward 
each other with a deeper, purer affection than matu- 
rer hearts, seamed and seared by the scars of life’s 
unceasing battle, can ever feel again. 

During his homeward journey there had been one 
happy thought ever present in Harry’s mind: “I 
shall meet her,^ and the words echoed in his heart 
until it leaped in his bosom with eager and joyous 
anticipation, and the rushing engine seemed, to his 
impatience, to creep like a snail upon its way. But 
this Carrie could not know, and her maidenly mod- 

19 


290 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


esty forbade her to admit the hope which was knock- 
ing at her heart. 

“ He may have forgotten me,” said her fears. “He 
may not have loved me at all.” And so she tortured 
herself with unreasoning doubts as the time dragged 
wearily on. 

Her mother attempted to engage her in conversa- 
tion, but her answers were short and irrelevant, and 
Mrs. Blair desisted, and they sat in silence, watching 
for the appearance of the travelers. 

A thin cloud of dust arose in the road where it 
skirted the wood, far away across the fields. Both 
the watchers saw it, but neither spoke, for they were 
as yet uncertain. But when the top of the carriage 
was plainly visible above the fences, Carrie cried : 

“They are coming.” 

She rose to her feet and gazed a moment toward 
the approaching vehicle, and then, with her face 
ablaze with blushes, she entered the house. Mrs. 
Blair smiled at her daughter’s agitation, but it was a 
smile of affection and indulgence. 

The carriage turned up the lane to the house and 
paused in front of the door. First to descend was 
Dr. Blair, and after him Mr. Conover. Then Harry 
came feebly forth, and the three approached the 
house. Mrs. Blair met them at the gate and took the 
boy in her motherly arms and pressed him to her 
bosom. 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


291 


“What a terrible anxiety you have given us all, 
foolish boy,” she said. “Could you not trust our 
love, that you left us without a word ? But there, I 
will not scold you now. I am too glad to get you 
back again.” 

Harry returned her caress, but glanced uneasily 
about, as if not entirely satisfied. 

“Where’s — where’s — Carrie?” he asked, while a 
flush overran his pale cheeks as he spoke. 

“She is in the house,” said Mrs. Blair. 

Harry looked disappointed. 

“She does not care for me,” he thought. “She 
does not even meet me to welcome me back.” 

When he entered the room Carrie was standing at 
the opposite side, her color coming and going, and 
her attitude half of fear, half of eagerness. The eyes 
of the boy and girl met and that quick glance told 
more of love and hope and trust than this poor pen 
has power to record. Harry extended his hand. 

“ Have you no welcome for the prodigal? ” he said. 

“Yes, Harry, I am glad — ” their hands met, and 
then — nay, sneer not, you in whose poor withered 
hearts the well-springs of love have perished in the 
desert of conventional life — and then — their lips. 

Carrie started from her lover with a burning face 
and glanced about her like a startled fawn, but they 
were alone. Mr. Conover was engaged in earnest 


292 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


conversation with Dr. Blair and his wife upon the 
porch, where they paused when Harry entered the 
room. Then yielding to his caressing arm Carrie laid 
her sunny head upon his breast, where it rested like 
a half-frightened bird. 

When, after a few minutes, the others entered the 
room, the two young people sat upon the sofa to- 
gether in all the radiant happiness of newly plighted 
troth. 

The evening passed pleasantly away, amid mutual 
explanations. Harry related his adventures to eager 
listeners, and Carrie pressed closer to his side and 
shuddered at the dangers he had encountered. Mat- 
ters of business were also discussed, and plans laid 
for the future, but of these, more anon. 

, Weeks passed on, and, under the gentle nursing of 
Mrs. Blair and Carrie, Harry soon regained his 
strength, and the bloom of health came back to his 
cheeks, and the light of energy to his eyes. And 
Carrie— gentle, fair-haired, blue-eyed Carrie— she flit- 
ted about like a sunbeam, lighting the house with the 
radiance of her joy. The long silent piano laughed in 
rippling music at her merry touch, and the voice of 
song again gladdened that happy home. For the 
lost was found — the loved one had returned. 

Mr. Conover remained a guest at the doctor’s 
house, waiting for Harry’s recovery, when it was 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


293 


arranged that the latter should accompany his uncle 
to New York, there to attend school for a year and 
fit himself to enter a prosperous mercantile business 
in which Mr. Conover had purchased a partnership. 
But there was to be no separation of the newly-united 
friends. Dr. Blair, who had long contemplated re- 
tiring from practice, had completed arrangements for 
the sale of his farm, and his practice he had disposed 
of to a younger man, who was to take his place, and 
he and his family were to accompany Mr. Conover 
to New York. So there was to be no cloud in the 
sky of the happiness which, after long waiting, had 
come to them all. 

After Harry had sufficiently recovered to be able 
to travel he visited the old farm-house from which 
he first began his “tramp.” John Shannon was at 
work in the fields when he arrived, and Mrs. Shannon 
met him at the door. At first she did not recognize 
the tall, graceful youth who extended his hand to 
her, but when she did she turned first red, then pale, 
and sat down and covered her face with her apron 
and cried : 

“Oh, Harry! Harry I have you come back? Can 
you ever forgive the poor old woman who let her 
miserable temper drive you away?” 

“ With all my heart. Mother Shannon,” said Harry. 
‘ ‘ The readier, since it has resulted in so much happi- 


294 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


ness. But for my flight ftom this house I would 
never have known Dr, Blair and his wife, and — and — 
Carrie.” 

“I didn’t mean half I said, Harry,” sobbed Mrs. 
Shannon. “I was just a cross, foolish old woman, 
and I didn’t mean to drive you away. But John 
must know that you are here. I’ll ring the bell.” 
The clatter of the great dinner bell on a post at 
the kitchen door — a new acquisition since Harry’s 
departure — brought John Shannon to the house in a 
great hurry to learn the cause of the sound at so un- 
usual an hour. The farmer recognized Harry at 
once, and first grasped his extended hand and then 
clasped him to his breast, while the tears filled his 
eyes. 

Harry passed that night in the little room up under 
the roof, although Mrs. Shannon declared that he 
should not sleep in such a place, he should have the 
best bed in the house ; but Harry insisted on occu- 
pying his old room, and had his way. Here he lay 
awake far into the night, recalling the past with all 
its mingled misery and joy, and fell asleep at last 
with prayers of thankfulness in his heart for the great 
happiness which seemed in store for him in the future. 

In due time the removal to New York was made, 
and Harry entered a mercantile school to fit himself 
for the new duties before him. He was still an in- 


THE MAN WHO TRAMPS. 


295 


mate of the kind doctor’s home, as was also Mr. Con- 
over, who, having no family of his own, adopted that 
of the doctor, to use his own words. 

“ Besides, I feel that we are related, or soon will 
be,” he said, glancing archly toward Harry and Car- 
rie, who sat together, turning the leaves of the same 
book. 

The doctor and Mrs. Blair smiled, and the young 
people blushed, with looks half of embarassment, half 
of radiant happiness. 

And here I must leave the reader to write his own 
sequel, only stipulating that the wedding be not too 
long deferred. 



THE END. 


INDIANA. 

I. 

I LOVE New England’s sea-girt strand, 
Where, his Atlantic voyage o’er. 

The day steps lightly to the land. 

And journeys westward from the shore. 

II. 

For all her sun-lit hills are fair, 

And silver-tongued are all her streams. 
And joys, that blessed my spirit there, 

Still mingle with my sweetest dreams. 

III. 

And oft, .when vagrant fancy flings 
Her baubles down, as day declines, 

I hear in memory’s rustling wings 

The singing of the mountain pines. 

IV. 

But fairer scenes and softer skies 
Await the later day’s caress. 

Where Indiana, smiling, lies. 

The blossom of the wilderness. 

V. 

Her forests spread their arms to greet 
A rosy flood of summer air. 

And plains fall fainting at their feet, 

O’erburdened with the wealth they bear. 


/ND/ANA. 


297 


VI. 

Here singing streams in gladness run 
Through vocal wood and flowery lea, 
And carry southward to the sun 

The pearls he borrowed from the sea. 

VII. 

Triumphant march the woodmen beat, 
Where progress moves all conquering. 
While homesteads rise about her feet. 
Like roses in the path of spring. 

VIII. 

Till, fair as ocean billows, glide 

The waves across the harvest plain. 
And sweeter than the murmuring tide 
The rustling of the golden grain. 


IX. 

Oh! dearer is our lovely vale, 

With hamlets from the forest won. 
Than all the pine-clad hills, where trail 
The sea-wet tresses of the sun. 

X. 

Fair Indiana, may the hand 

Of progress touch thee but to bless ; 
And peace, with plenty, crown the landi 
That blossoms from the wilderness. 


( 


JUNE. 

I. 

Sweet May, upon her flowery bier, 

Lies pallid now, her scepter gone, 
And June, the queen of all the year. 
Has put her crown of roses on ; 

And round her lovely form she twines 
A zone of honeysuckle vines. 

II. 

Bright butterflies and beauteous things 
About her sunny tresses play ; 

The humming bird, on trembling wings. 
With rapture meets her on the way, • 
And, drinking kisses from her lips. 

Grows drunken with the Sweets he sips. 

III. 

The air is heavy with perfume 

Where, underneath the locust trees, 

Or ankle deep in clover bloom. 

She walks, surrounded by her bees. 
While winds, that follow in her train. 

Go sporting through the ripening grain. 

IV. 

She scatters blossoms, wild and sweet. 
With lavish hand along the lanes. 

And by the brook her rosy feet 

Grow redder with the berry stains. 
And buttercups, to see her pass. 

Stand tip-toe in the meadow grass. 


JUNE. 


299 


V. 

She stoops in tenderness to set 

Her blossoms on the tomb of May, 

And plants the fragrant mignonette 
To hide the hyacinth’s decay, 

And hangs the morning-glory vine 
With flagon cups of dewy wine. 

VI. 

The roses breathe a fragrant sigh, 

Where their sweet pseony sisters fell ; 
The languid poppy blossoms lie 
Asleep on beds of asphodel ; 

And birds, too full of joy to sing. 

Sit, nestling, where the jasmines cling. 

VII. 

And love-lies-bleeding on the spot 

Where early daisies wooed the bees, 
And sad, the pale forget-me-not 
Bends o’er the dead anemones, 

And fair verbenas twine and cling 
Where crocus blossoms met the spring. 

VIII. 

Above the faded daffodils, 

Where lilacs shed their tears of bloom, 
The lily’s swinging censer spills 
A dewy incense on their tomb, 

Till portulacas cease to weep, 

And fold their ro.sy hands in sleep. 

IX. 

And Arethusa, by the brook, 

Has put her royal purple on, 


300 


THE REAPERS. 


And stands, a queen, where Caltha shook 
Her golden tresses in the sun ; 

And willows set their harps atune 
In songs of welcome to the June. 

\ 

X. 

And I bow down before her fee t. 

As pilgrim at some holy shrine. 

And drink her breath with roses sweet. 

As bacchanalians drink of wine. 

Till round my heart such raptures throng,. 
That all my soul goes out in song. 


THE REAPERS. 

I. 

I SAW the morn half-wakened stand 
Upon the glowing hills, and fair 
The fingers of her rosy hand 

Played through her wealth of golden hair j 
The music of the vale was sweet 

With tinkling sounds of stirring herds. 

And gay woodpeckers loudly beat 

The morning drum that wakes the birds. 

II. 

Where sweet wild roses lined the brook. 

The winds were bathing in perfume. 

Their wings the insect nomads shook. 

And issued from their tents of bloom ; 


THE REAPERS. 


301 


The dew hung bright on tree and plant. 

And o’er the yellow harvest field 
The early sunbeams fell aslant 

Like javelins on a golden shield.* 

III. 

Among the ranks of ripening grain, 

I saw the wind-waves chasing run, 

As billows sport upon the main, 

And, seaward roll, meet the sun ; 

And while the shadows still were long. 

And covered half the plain below, 

Across the field, with shout and song, 

I saw the reapers come and go. 

IV. 

Among the harvest sheaves I stood, 

When day’s last embers faintly burned, 
And shadows of the gnomon wood 

Were eastward on their dial turned ; 

And blotted from the gleaming grain. 

Was all the morning’s rosy glow, 

Yet still across the harvest plain 
I saw the weary reapers go. 

V. 

And thus, I sighed, when man has wrought 
Through all the long and burning day. 
To bind the gleaming sheaves of thought. 
Till life in twilight blends away— 

He finds that shadows have concealed 
The glories of the harvest plain, 

And stands a reaper yet afield 

Among the ripe, ungathered grain. 


AN AUTUMN REVERIE. 


1 . 

One day I found within the wood 
A spot by foliage overhung, 

A sad, forbidding solitude. 

Where e’en the robin’s song unsung. 

Died quivering on his frightened heart; 

Where e’en the stream that crossed its gloom, 
Impatient, tore the boughs apart. 

And leaped into the light and bloom. 

II. 

I came again, when Autumn burned 
The Summer’s dying sacrifice. 

And lo ! her chastening hand had turned 
The gloom into a paradise. 

I heeded not that round me lay 
The fallen glories of the wood, 

I only felt the golden day 

That flooded all the solitude. 

III. 

I know a weary 'heart, to-day, 

O’ershadowed by its hopes delayed. 

But, silently, they drop away. 

As summer leaflets fall and fade. 

As one by one they fall and die. 

The overhanging gloom is riven, 

And widening vistas, toward the sky. 

Let in a larger share of heaven. 


FORTY YEARS-OLD. 


I. 

I’m forty to-day, but the heart of a boy 
In my bosom is pulsing away ; 

My soul is so glad in its fullness of joy. 
That I sing like a child at its play. 
Life’s morning of beauty I can not forget ; 

So fair was the day it foretold. 

That hues of its dawning encircle me yet. 
Though I know I am forty years old. 


II. 

I know that the wrinkles should be on my brow^ 
And that I should be sober and staid; 

But there is a laugh to smooth over, somehow. 
Every furrow that sorrow hath made. 

I can not be solemn and glum if I would. 

And the reason is easily told, 

Each ill that arises I match with a good 
And my pleasures are forty years old. 

III. 

Perhaps I should delve into books like a ghoul 
For the skeleton relics of thought, 

But dearer to me is its fetterless soul. 

That the book-makers never have caught. 

I ramble the fields when the hues of the morn. 
Like the buds of the roses, unfold; 

I mock the brown quail as it pipes in the corn,. 
And forget I am forty years old. 


304 


FORTY YEARS OLD. 


IV. 

Sometimes as I wander — to study inclined — 

A squirrel darts over my way, 

I toss back my locks, with a laugh, to the wind. 
And forget they are threaded with gray. 

I shout like a boy, and away from my heart 
Its thirty-years’^, burden is rolled ; 

I join in the chase, till I wake with a start, 

And remember I’m forty years old. 

V. 

I sit at my door when the shadows go by. 

In their stealthy pursuit of the day; 

There comes to my side one whose merry blue eye 
Still can charm my heart shadows away. 

Then all the long record of sorrow and joy. 

Like a manuscript, backward is rolled. 

As, wrapt in the twilight, the maid and the boy 
Never think they are forty years old. 

VI. 

I come to my home when the lamps are aglow — 
There’s a charm in the hour for me — 

I look for the one whose sweet presence I know. 
And lo ! I am welcomed by three. 

The daughters, the mother, so like in their mein 
That I pause in amaze to behold. 

Till filled with the joy and the peace of the scene 
I am glad that I’m forty years old. 


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